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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374674">Double up or Burn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf'>Lakritzwolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double up or Burn [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deus Ex: Human Revolution</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, ICU and life support, M/M, Mourning, Nobody dies but everyone thinks so, Pritchard POV, Self-insert OC because Pritchard needs a friend, Temporary Character Death, post-Panchaea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:06:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Pritchard doesn’t know when ‘barely tolerating Jensen’ became ‘caring about Jensen’, but it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. The world as he knew it is shattered, people pushed into madness barely able to recover, and the man who had saved them all lost forever. </p><p>Or so he thought. </p><p>How many times can someone be given a sliver of hope only to have it torn from their grasp again before they go mad? Frank doesn’t know, but he feels as if fate is trying to find out how much it needs to break him.</p><div class="center">
  <p>***<br/><i>And I wish, I wish I knew the right words</i><br/><i>To make you feel better, walk out of this place</i><br/><i>Defeat them in your secret battle</i><br/><i>Show them you can be your own man again</i> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i>Don't, don't explain</i><br/><i>Lots of little victories take on the pain</i><br/><i>It takes so long to earn</i><br/><i>You can double up or you can burn, you can burn</i></p>
  <div class="center">
    <p>***</p>
  </div>
</div>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Double up or Burn [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title is taken from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ogj5ztTE0zw">Blow Up The Pokies</a> by The Whitlams.</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Check the end note for a link to a beautiful piece art for this chapter!</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“And Jensen… don’t get yourself killed.”</p><p>
  <em>“Aw, Francis. I didn’t know you cared.”</em>
</p><p>God <em>damn</em> him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I care for the security of this company, and you getting yourself killed compromises that. So don’t be stupid.”</p><p>Frank was still bristling after he cut off the call. Fucking smart-mouthing idiot, thinking he was funny.</p><p>Fuck that man. Jensen could get under his skin like no one else. But the truth was - a truth he would never want to admit, least of all to Jensen himself - was that he did care, somehow.</p><p>He didn’t want for Jensen to get himself killed.</p><p>He wasn’t quite sure when his hatred for the man had turned into mere animosity. At one point during the missions that got him halfway around the world and back, probably. They had had to learn to work together, after all, and Jensen had relied on his information completely, never doubting Frank’s competence or skill.</p><p>A small dose of grudging respect had entered the mix, but that didn’t mean they were by any means even close to getting friendly. They just pushed all of each other’s buttons, constantly, and not the good ones. Plus, Jensen kept stealing his Cyberboost bars and once had even tried to hack his personal computer in his office. That asshole.</p><p>The fact that he found Jensen attractive had nothing to do with anything. Finding someone physically appealing didn’t mean anything. Unless it so happened that you stopped hating the person in question, but luckily Frank was good at compartmentalising, so hating Jensen’s guts and enjoying the view of his ass were not mutually exclusive.</p><p>Trying not to think about Jensen’s quip any further, Frank focused back on his work, and the routine security sweep he did every evening. Miracle of miracles, he didn’t find anything tonight.</p><p>Something was about to go down.</p><p>It wasn’t much later that Jensen got in touch with him, asking him to assign a security detail, and to keep it secret from Sarif. Technically he shouldn’t be doing this, he knew. But the point was that for months, Jensen had blindly and unquestioningly trusted Frank and his instructions, and somehow, Frank felt it strangely easy to return that trust, for once. This clearly was important to Jensen, even if it was obviously a personal matter.</p><p>
  <em>“And Pritchard, thanks.”</em>
</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” Frank dragged a hand down his face, and shook his head as he got to work doing what he promised.</p><p>It turned out that Michelle Walthers was an elderly woman, with a modest pension and without any living relatives. She was scheduled for regular visits of social workers and daycare nurses, however, and had a subsidised subscription for Rolling Meals. She clearly was vulnerable, just as Jensen said, with all the ailments old age would bring. He felt a lot less reluctant now to assign the security detail, especially since this was somehow connected with private security goons breaking into someone’s home and gunning him down. It wasn’t even half an hour ago after all that he had called an ambulance for Radford.</p><p>But he was dying to know how this elderly lady was connected to a security breach at Sarif Industries more than six months ago and which somehow had involved a private investigator.</p><p>It wasn’t much later that Jensen entered his office again. He looked tired, beat, and had splatters of blood on his coat. Frank didn’t want to admit how worry and anxiety spiked in him when he saw that, and neither how his worry got his stomach in knots when Jensen looked at him now, with retracted shades. He didn’t only look physically exhausted.</p><p>“Jensen?” His voice was a lot more gentle than he had intended. He also found himself halfway out of his chair before he realised what he was doing. “Please tell me that this is-”</p><p>“Not my blood, no.” Jensen took a heavy breath, huffed it out again with a rasp. “Did you…?”</p><p>“Assign the security detail? I did.” It was somehow difficult to watch how Jensen’s shoulders sagged with relief. “But I still don’t know who this woman is to you.”</p><p>“I… I’ll explain. Can I get myself a coffee first?”</p><p>“Sit down,” Frank said, already on his way to the door.</p><p>So now he was getting a coffee from the cafeteria for the man falling onto his sofa. Something was obviously very wrong, and sitting down, Jensen looked even more tired than before.</p><p>When Frank returned to the office with two coffees Jensen was still staring straight ahead, his shades still down. He had the air of someone who had just received terribly bad news, and the knots in Frank’s stomach hardened. But he cautiously lowered himself down next to him, and offered him the cup.</p><p>Jensen unfroze and took it with a nod. “Thanks.”</p><p>A moment of silence passed.</p><p>“So?” Frank prodded gently. “Walthers?”</p><p>Jensen huffed out another breath. “So, I discovered my parents aren’t my real parents, and that as a baby I was kept in the White Helix labs. Where my real parents died. Michelle Walthers saved me and gave me to the Jensens to raise. It’s not my real name, but there’s no chance to find out who I was, before. The fire that destroyed the labs destroyed all the files and documents too.”</p><p>“Shit,” Frank blurted out without thinking. “That…” <em>sucks</em> was an understatement.</p><p>“And… Michelle Walthers worked there, but she was only one of the nursing staff, and doesn’t know what really happened there. But what she said… what she said…”</p><p>Jensen took a sip of his coffee with closed eyes. Whatever she had said had cut him deeply.</p><p>“What… did she say?” Frank asked cautiously.</p><p>“She…” Jensen looked up, but stared straight ahead. “Something about experiments on the babies. And that Adam was the only one who survived the experiments, and that they planned to use him to inoculate the other babies. And that’s when my parents… my real parents… decided to start the fire. But they didn’t make it out in time, and Michelle got me out.”</p><p>Frank stared at him, and had no idea what to say.</p><p>“Radford called me a freak,” Jensen said. “And I’m beginning to think he’s right.”</p><p>“Come on, Jensen.” Frank leaned forward a little to look at his face. “Really?”</p><p>Jensen looked up and met his eyes, artificial retinas spinning and expanding. “They changed my DNA, Pritchard. They did something to me, in that lab. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the reason Sarif put that augmentation clause in my contract.”</p><p>“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?” Frank asked.</p><p>“Is it?” Jensen’s stare was unsettling. “I was experimented on as a baby, those experiments changed my DNA, and I am the only person in the world who can accommodate a shit ton of augments without needing a scrap of neuropozyne!”</p><p>Frank opened and closed his mouth a few times. He didn’t find anything useful to say, however.</p><p>“I thought as much,” Jensen muttered darkly.</p><p>And here Frank had thought that Jensen had really gone through too much already with his near-fatal injuries and the massive augmentations. Now an even heavier load was dropped onto him, and Frank felt himself getting strangely angry, at the world in general and some people he didn’t even know in particular, for fucking Jensen over, again and again.</p><p>“I’m just…” Jensen stared at the carpet. “Nothing about me feels real anymore. My parents aren’t my real parents, my limbs aren’t my real limbs, half of my body isn’t mine anymore, and even my goddamn DNA isn’t real!”</p><p>The blades slid out of his arms like an afterthought, and miraculously, Frank managed not to flinch.</p><p>“Everything about me screams either freak or murder weapon,” Jensen said in a low, cracked voice. “I almost can’t feel anymore what I’m touching. Sensation replaced by weapons. Weapons I’ve never used, and that I won’t ever use, but who gives a shit about that.” The blades slid back and Jensen fell back into the sofa with a groan. “Sorry to dump this on you, Pritchard. This wasn’t supposed to turn into a pity party.”</p><p>“Jensen, I…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair.”</p><p>Jensen huffed out a bitter, mirthless laugh. “Fair is where you go for cotton candy and a merry-go-round.”</p><p>“Jensen, if there’s anything I could-”</p><p>“Do?” Jensen looked at him again. “What could you do?” he growled. “Unfuck my DNA? Give me back my limbs?”</p><p>But he sagged again before Frank could say anything.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault. Shouldn’t take it out on you.”</p><p>“Well… you shouldn’t, but it’s not as if I don’t understand why you just snapped at me.”</p><p>“That’s gotta be a first,” Jensen gave back, with the faint ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes tugging at one corner of his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>God, someone give this man a hug.</em>
</p><p>Frank would never have imagined he’d ever think this. Unfortunately the only person around was Frank Pritchard, and he didn’t hug people. He never hugged people, and he would especially never hug Jensen. Apart from that he was sure Jensen would not appreciate a hug from him. From Malik, maybe. But not him.</p><p>“Jensen…” Frank sighed. “Is there anything I can do?”</p><p>Jensen huffed out another mirthless chuckle. “I’m surprised that you even care.”</p><p>“We’re obviously having a moment here,” Frank gave back, and it didn’t come out as firmly as he had intended. “So, yes, I do care.”</p><p>“And what next?” This time, Jensen’s tiny smile was still tired, but real. “You’re gonna hug me?”</p><p>“I do not hug, Jensen.” Frank crossed his arms. “And it’s not as if you would like a hug from me anyway.”</p><p>Jensen looked at the floor again and muttered something.</p><p>Frank was pretty sure he had said ‘<em>right now I’d take a hug from anyone</em>’, but it clearly hadn’t been meant for his ears.</p><p>But then he moved closer, and pulled one leg under him so he could face Jensen directly. And then, not knowing what possessed him and not caring at this point, he slung both arms around the other man’s shoulders with the determination of someone facing a grim task of duty.</p><p>Jensen tensed for a moment, and Frank was sure he was about to push him away, but then his shoulders relaxed, the tiniest bit, and he sank against Frank chest, his head coming to rest on Frank’s shoulder.</p><p>“I thought you didn't hug,” Jensen muttered into the collar of Frank’s jacket after a moment.</p><p>“Well. Yeah.” Frank cleared his throat. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”</p><p>This felt far too intimate for Frank to be entirely comfortable with, and his heart was racing unpleasantly fast. There was no way Jensen wouldn’t hear that, and Frank had a moment to wonder what he would think.</p><p>Jensen didn’t reply, but after a moment he shifted slightly, and then his arms closed around Frank’s chest. Frank tried to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat, but then Jensen shifted again and looked up at him.</p><p>He had never been so close to Jensen’s face. His eyes, this close, were mesmerizing. So close Frank could almost feel his breath on his cheeks.</p><p>The crackle of the infolink made them both jump out of their skin. Within a heartbeat they were both out of the sofa and at almost separate ends of the room.</p><p>
  <em>“Adam! Where the hell are you?” </em>
</p><p>Sarif.</p><p>
  <em>“I haven’t got all night, you know, and neither does Faridah!”</em>
</p><p>Jensen shook his head as he looked at Frank, and mouthed a ‘<em>Fuck</em>’ that was no less heartfelt for being soundless.</p><p>“Sorry, boss.” Jensen cleared his throat. “I got a little…” He hesitated. “...sidetracked,” he then ended lamely.</p><p>
  <em>“Look, I don’t care what you two do in your spare time-”</em>
</p><p>“Two?” Jensen frowned.</p><p><em>“I’m not an idiot, Adam, Athena pinged you and you’re in Frank’s office.”</em>  Was Sarif smirking? He probably was. <em>“But this is important, and you have to go back to whatever you’re doing - and I don’t want any details! - another time.”</em></p><p>“Whatever we’re...”</p><p>The infolink crackled again, and the two stared at each other in silence.</p><p>“Well fuck,” Frank said, both frustrated and nervous about what Sarif would have to say to him about this. There was literally no reason why he had logged Frank into that call other than to embarrass him.</p><p>They both obviously didn’t know what had just happened, but now Jensen was standing in the door, seemingly very hesitant to leave.</p><p>“Well,” he said eventually. “I guess this is me.”</p><p>“I guess.” Frank resisted the urge to cross his arms.</p><p>“I’ll see you again?”</p><p>“We work together, Jensen.” Frank resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Although he knew perfectly well what he meant.</p><p>“You know what I mean,” Jensen shot back with a small frown.</p><p>“Of course I do,” Frank replied with a sigh. “We don’t have time to unpack all of this right now. So get going before Sarif decides to chew out both our asses for this.”</p><p>Jensen nodded and turned around, still hesitant. Before Frank could say anything he had turned around again. “See you,” he said, and was gone.</p><p>Frank slowly stepped back and closed the door, then he fell against the nearest wall, dragging his hands down his face with a groan.</p><p>Had he just been about to kiss a co-worker? And not just any co-worker, but Adam fucking Jensen?</p><p>Best not to think about it.</p>
<hr/><p>Less than an hour later Jensen was in the air again, on his way to Hengsha for the second time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look at this beautiful <a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1328323394958286853">piece of art</a> I got! I am so happy! Give it - and the artist - some love!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Pretending that nothing had changed was surprisingly easy when they couldn’t look at each other and were separated by thousands of miles of ocean.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I suggest you start by going up.”</em>
</p>
<p>Frank could by now imagine the smirk on Jensen’s face that would have accompanied their bickering during his previous stay in Hengsha, although he did wonder if Jensen would more likely have rolled his eyes. Frank also wondered if he should consider thinking of him as Adam, after they had almost kissed in his office, but sticking to Jensen was emotionally safer by far. So, it was Jensen in this context, but it still was all so fucking confusing. He couldn’t even think of anything to needle Jensen about.</p>
<p>Which was probably as well, because this time round in Hengsha would be nothing compared to the first time. True, Jensen was a hardened warrior by now, as archaic as that sounded, and had massively upgraded his augmentations since the last time. That didn’t stop Frank from worrying himself half to death however, with Jensen having to navigate around a city teeming with trained soldiers out to kill him. And on top of everything else, the biochip glitches were getting worse.</p>
<p>It didn’t sit well with him to have Jensen out of his reach for the tests he was running; like hell would he just have his chip replaced like that. Because out of the blue there were biochip problems all over the world, and Tai Yong Medical immediately had enough of them on their hands to replace them all.</p>
<p>Something was extremely fishy about it, and Frank’s paranoia was running on full power. So he did test after test, and eventually managed to figure out a bypass route that kept the glitches at bay. It was, of course, only a stop-gap solution, and something had to be done about those faulty biochips, but until Frank had figured out what exactly was wrong with them he would be able to function as usual. Sarif too, after Frank had made the same modifications to his boss’ biochip as well. He needed to figure out a more effective way to fix the biochips of the rest of the staff, because the process he had available now was slow and tedious and often needed several attempts.</p>
<p>Figuring out the biochip issue and trying to cope with a city full of riots kept him really busy however, so he was taken completely off guard when he suddenly heard Jensen’s voice via infolink telling him he would be off the grid for a while.</p>
<p>“Why?” He leaned forward towards his screen, as if that would make any difference. “What are you up to, Jensen?!”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Following a lead.”</em>
</p>
<p>“And where, exactly, is this lead taking you?”</p>
<p>Jensen didn’t reply, and every hair on Pritchard’s body suddenly stood on edge.</p>
<p>“Answer me, Jensen! Where are you going?!”</p>
<p>After a moment, he could hear Jensen’s voice again, low, and somehow strained, as if he… Pritchard quickly checked his vitals, but they weren’t off by a lot, so whatever injury he might have was nothing serious.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hell if I know, Pritchard. Hell if I know.”</em>
</p>
<p>But Jensen’s words made his stomach turn.</p>
<p>“Jensen!”</p>
<p>Nothing.</p>
<p>“Jensen, answer me!”</p>
<p>The infolink stayed stubbornly silent.</p>
<p>Frank had to suppress the sudden urge to throw his mouse across the room in angry frustration. Whatever the fucking idiot was getting himself into now couldn’t be anything good.</p>
<p>After trying for another hour to get in touch with Jensen again, switching to every frequency he had access to, Frank had to give up and get back to the issues at hand he could actually do something about.</p>
<p>And just to shit into his other shoe, fate decided to send another hacker attack his way.</p>
<p>As if he wasn’t constantly telling people off for clicking on attachments to emails from unknown senders day in, day out, since his first day at work seven years ago. And now some idiot scientist from one of the biolabs, as far he could tell, had managed to invite a Trojan into their system.</p>
<p>And the thing was a menace.</p>
<p>Whoever had programmed the bastard had been good, and while they were no match for Pritchard, he still had his hands full doing damage control.</p>
<p>In the end he was forced to take three servers offline, and despite sending out memos - emails and physical ones, prints carried around by the few interns he had been able to get his hands on - he knew that once this was over he’d have to deal with days and days of data recovery. As if he didn’t have enough of all the ‘I can’t remember where I saved that file’ and ‘I accidentally deleted an email’ all the fucking time. Because he had no illusions about the researchers being able to remember to save their data locally for the time being until he had flushed the damn malware out. Some of them, maybe. He wasn’t holding his breath, however.</p>
<p>Well. At least this was keeping him busy, forcing his mind to focus on something other than worrying about that stupid idiot Jensen.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As expected, once the malware was gone Frank spent the next few days recovering data from temporary folders and other locations that those eggheads couldn’t remember, and he was ready to throw the next person coming at him with a request like that right out of the window. If his office would have a window, that is.</p>
<p>So when someone knocked at his door that afternoon he was ready to snap.</p>
<p>“What is it?!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Pritchard.”</p>
<p>“Weber.”</p>
<p>The only person at Sarif Industries using titles. It was fucking weird, but she just couldn’t seem to get used to their usual tone. Maybe it was a German thing.</p>
<p>“What is it,” he asked again, trying to keep his voice more level. At least she was being polite instead of immediately trying to jump over his desk.</p>
<p>“I’m having problems with the data backup,” she said, and just as Frank was about to crawl up her ass too, she held up a flash drive. “I’ve been saving my stuff on this for the last days, but now I want to pull it over back to my drive, the computer won’t let me.”</p>
<p>“Won’t let you?” Frank frowned at her.</p>
<p>“Yes, I get a notification window telling me that I do not have the required authorization to transfer these files.”</p>
<p>“That’s weird.”</p>
<p>“I know.” She stepped closer to his desk. “I was wondering if you could help me pull the data over.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have a look.”</p>
<p>She handed him the flash drive, and Frank plugged it in to see what the matter was. Probably another piece of stupid malware. He isolated the drive and entered his password, expecting the worst.</p>
<p>What he got was an extensive filing system, with so many named and dated subfolders that it felt he was looking at a library consisting of several libraries. Apparently that woman had such a meticulous way of organizing her files that whatever she was looking for, it couldn’t take her more than a few seconds to find it in the folder trees she had. Frank was impressed. And he also realised that he probably had been watching too much stupid TV shows to instantly assume that overweight, bespectacled people were only good for comic relief. Or a German accent, for that matter.</p>
<p>It turned out the issue was the size of the whole thing. “It’s the sheer amount of data that’s the problem,” Frank explained as he started the process of pulling everything over.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she said with a shrug. “It was such chaos the last few days, and I saved everything on the stick, but I didn’t take enough notes about what I changed, so to be safe I wanted to pull all the data over again.”</p>
<p>“Better safe than sorry, hm?” Frank allowed himself to be relieved; at least one person in this giant madhouse had her IT skills in order. Because he now remembered he had never before logged a data recovery request from her, or an alert about a piece of malware. And now he also remembered that it was her who dutifully forwarded every unknown mail with strange attachments and every phishing mail to him, as was proper procedure.</p>
<p>Apparently the thing about Germans doing everything by the book wasn’t just a rumour. It was refreshing, to be honest.</p>
<p>“I’m really sorry to take up so much of your time,” Weber said as he handed her the flash drive back. “I will make sure to take notes when I do back-up next time.”</p>
<p>“That’s going to take you hours,” Frank replied, looking up at her again. “What kind of data is that even? I couldn’t even begin to count those folders.”</p>
<p>“It’s project management.” She slipped the flash drive into her pocket. “I’m up in science admin, I do the project management. You know, each project number, the assigned hours of each partaking scientist, and the funds allocated to the required items.”</p>
<p>Frank blinked at her. “And you’re doing all that on one of those low level admin PCs?”</p>
<p>“It manages. The software runs smoothly, most of the time.”</p>
<p>“Most of the time?”</p>
<p>If there had ever been a physical embodiment of the shrug emoji, he was seeing it now.</p>
<p>“Right.” Frank opened another window. “I’m setting up a hardware ticket, and in the meantime, I’m increasing your data transfer limit. Why haven’t you complained yet?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I filed several,” Weber replied simply.</p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p>“I assume you never got them.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t,” Frank replied, his frown deepening. “Who did you send them to?”</p>
<p>“Mrs Fitzgerald, my line manager. Although she told me I do too many backups and work-in-progress copies.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Frank finished the process for the data allowance and nodded. “I’m going to have a word with her, to clear up that… misunderstanding.”</p>
<p>“Thank you so much, Mr Pritchard,” Weber said with a smile. “Have a good day!”</p>
<p>Frank watched her go, and leaned back in his chair after she had gently closed the door.</p>
<p>Crossing his legs, Frank folded his hands behind his head and arched his back. His thoughts immediately went back to Jensen of course, and what he was getting himself into, and that he was completely helpless to do anything to assist him.</p>
<p>The last of his somewhat restored good mood vanished when at that moment another idiot stumbled through his door. He needed help with restoring a file, as he had re-named it and for whatever reason the file was now unreadable and inaccessible.</p>
<p>It was moments like this when Frank considered handing in his notice and going back to blackhat work again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next few days were filled with getting the system up and running again and trying to optimise the temporary fix for the glitchy biochip. Frank was still trying to find out what exactly was wrong with them and why LIMB International suddenly had all the resources to have them replaced. But with the process still in development he had only been able to sort-of-fix the chips of a few people, key positions in Sarif Industries like Sarif himself, Athena, and himself of course, plus a few other people. Like head researchers, head admin and… yes, project management. He wanted Weber to have a fix and didn’t want to be accused of favouritism.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Another day, another virus, this time in the HR department.</p>
<p>Frank was so fucking tired, but despite that, he couldn’t find rest, kept tossing and turning in his bed at night, and spent as little time as possible in his empty apartment.</p>
<p>His empty office however was hardly better, because his eyes kept straying towards his sofa, together with his thoughts that strayed back to that cursed almost-kiss.</p>
<p>Fucking Jensen. Fuck him and fuck this job and fuck everything.</p>
<p>Fuck Sarif too, for good measure, for fucking off with a few dumbass security goons to visit a bloody hole in the ocean.</p>
<p>Frank’s mood was at an all-time low these days. The all-nighter he had pulled last night probably didn’t help.</p>
<p>He dragged his hands down his face and waited for the letters on his screen to swim into focus again. The virus was gone, fucking finally, but just as he was about to get up to get himself another coffee, his infolink came to life.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Pritchard. Any chance you’re still there?”</em>
</p>
<p>Frank fell back into his chair, heart jumping into his throat. “Jensen…? My God! You’ve been offline for days! Where the hell are you?!”</p>
<p>He was already grabbing his mouse, opening windows faster than ever before.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I was hoping you’d tell me.”</em>
</p>
<p>“I’m pinging you now.” He’d already started the process before Jensen had asked. “You’re in… Singapore?” What.</p>
<p>But before he could get any more detailed data, he lost the connection.</p>
<p>“Something’s wrong, Jensen.” His fingers flew over the keyboard, but nothing happened. “I pinged you, and seconds later, I lost your GPL signal. It’s like you disappeared into a black hole!”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Gotta be a jammer.”</em>
</p>
<p>“Well obviously.” Frank couldn’t suppress a small eyeroll. “If you can find the transmitter and take it offline, I’ll be able to track you.” He stared at the screen. “And keep you on a tighter leash.”</p>
<p>Jensen however had no intention of letting Frank monitor him any more closer than he already did - obviously, the bloody idiot - but for now they had other things to focus on than Jensen’s lack of self-preservation skills.</p>
<p>“Malik.” Frank leaned back in his chair. “Stand by, I just got Jensen back on the radar. He’s in Singapore.”</p>
<p><em>“About time.”</em> Seemed she had been as worried as Frank himself. <em>“Anything else?”</em></p>
<p>“Nothing much, as of yet.” Frank tried to get Jensen’s GPL back, to no avail. “There’s a jamming array, and I can’t get any more info until he’s taken care of that.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Good. Keep me posted. I’m on my way to the chopper.”</em>
</p>
<p>Frank didn’t have to wait long, thankfully. Just as he was nervously tapping his finger on his mouse, four red dots appeared on the map before him.</p>
<p>“Fucking finally,” he muttered, and switched to the infolink. “You must have done something, Jensen. Four of our GPL signals just popped up, including yours. Koss, Colvin, Faherty. I’m not picking up Dr Reed.”</p>
<p><em>“Send me the coordinates you do have,”</em> Jensen replied. <em>“And Pritchard? Tell Sarif.”</em></p>
<p>“I can’t. While you were incommunicado, Mr Darrow invited him, Bill Taggart, and the UN delegates to Panchaea. They’re halfway to the Arctic by now.”</p>
<p>Glorious timing, leaving Pritchard to clean up the mess on his own. As usual.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Great…”</em>
</p>
<p>Indeed.</p>
<p>Things happened rather quickly after that. And turned into the biggest shitstorm Frank had ever the misfortune of not being able to imagine.</p>
<p>He had been monitoring the events in Panchaea, but only with half an ear, until…</p>
<p>Until the world suddenly went mad.</p>
<p>Frank had never, ever in his life been so terrified, and he felt like a deer in the headlight, watching people being destroyed everywhere, from the inside out, or by the people who had been turned mad around them.</p>
<p>It was Athena who had kept her wits about her and paged everyone who was still conscious to get to the head office, and within half an hour, those few staff members who weren’t augmented, and those who had received Frank’s temporary fix, were holed up in Sarif’s office. Frank quickly disabled both elevators, and then there was nothing to do but wait.</p>
<p>So when, a few hours later, Malik came back with the missing scientists, he could do nothing but redirect her to the Chiron building in the hopes of them being able to remain safe in Jensen’s apartment. Athena gave Frank access to Sarif’s computer and he hacked into the building’s security system to let them in, and to disable the elevators. It wasn’t a lot, but it was the best he could think of.</p>
<p>Jensen, as he was informed then, had taken a shuttle to Panchaea to stop the transmission. And suddenly the fate of the whole world was resting on one man’s shoulders. Frank tried his best to gather any intel on Sarif, on Panchaea, on Darrow, or anyone else, but didn’t get anything. Probably another jammer, or something like that.</p>
<p>It took him a while before he finally got Jensen back, but the signal was extremely shoddy.</p>
<p>“Jensen! Jensen, can you read me?!”</p>
<p><em>“Barely,”</em> came the reply, the voice crackling through the infolink. The interference was biting into Frank’s ears, and he gritted his teeth.<em> “I’ve reached Panchaea, Pritchard. Any word from Sarif or the UN delegates?”</em></p>
<p>“Nothing. The installation went into lockdown shortly after Darrow gave his speech.” And turned the world into a murder pit. What had gotten into the man? “I can’t tell if anyone’s even alive! And the signal’s still broadcasting.”</p>
<p>One could only hope that the people would recover their minds after the signal was stopped, but the aftermath of the madness would be hard to deal with.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Meaning, no one’s safe ‘till I get in there and shut it down.”</em>
</p>
<p>“You’ll have to disengage the lockdown first,” Frank replied, hastily going through the data Sarif had on Panchaea, and the few technical specifications that the info included. “Look for a master control panel at the top of the tower.”</p>
<p>The connection was cut off again, and Frank leaned back, shaking his head with closed eyes. What a fucking mess.</p>
<p>He looked around, his eyes scanning the small group of people taking refuge here, twenty-something, he guessed. Weber was among them, desperately clutching her phone and crying. Another woman was sitting next to her with her arms around Weber’s shoulders. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but they were not far away enough for him not to.</p>
<p>She had been trying to get hold of her husband, apparently, who thankfully wasn’t augmented, and when he had finally been able to answer his phone, he had managed to get their children out of school. They were now hiding in the basement of their home, waiting for the storm to pass.</p>
<p>Small mercies seemed still possible, at least. Other people who were trying to get in touch with loved ones weren’t as lucky.</p>
<p>About as lucky as Pritchard himself, who failed again and again at getting any intel, until he had to give up.</p>
<p>It was an hour later when the madness vanished as suddenly as it had come, and after checking the security feeds, Frank deemed it safe to leave their hideout and see what the damage was. The damage that could be repaired, at least. There weren’t enough trauma counselors in the world to deal with the aftermath of this catastrophe.</p>
<p>Back in his office which had thankfully not been touched by anyone driven crazy, Frank immediately logged in to the comm system. Yes, Malik and the scientists had been safe in Jensen’s apartment and were now en route to Sarif HQ. But he couldn’t get hold of neither Sarif nor Jensen, no matter what he tried.</p>
<p>He was ready to bash his head in from sheer frustration when the door to his office opened.</p>
<p>“Malik?”</p>
<p>“You should…” She was as pale as a sheet. “You should come and see this.”</p>
<p>“See what?” Frank got up, feeling something cold coalesce in his stomach.</p>
<p>“The news,” she replied.</p>
<p>He followed her to the cafeteria, where most of the people who didn’t need to recover were gathered in front of the large TV screen. It showed an aerial view of Panchaea in a window in the left part of the main screen, next to Eliza Cassan who was reporting on the incident, and the odd timing of the broadcast ending and Panchaea’s destruction.</p>
<p>His blood running cold, Frank stared at the smaller window, and the satellite recording of the whole structure slowly collapsing in on itself.</p>
<p>“Jensen?”</p>
<p>No reply, and Frank felt his heart begin to race.</p>
<p>“Jensen! Jensen, come in!”</p>
<p>He felt a few eyes on him, but he couldn’t care less. “Jensen! Jensen!!” he closed his eyes, as if that somehow could increase the intensity of the feed. “JENSEN!”</p>
<p>He looked up at the screen again, and at what was now a slowly calming surface again with a few bits of debris drifting around, some of them slowly vanishing below the waves.</p>
<p>After a moment he tore his eyes away and ran back to his office. He could track Jensen’s GPL, but the signal was weak, as if… as if there was several tons of metal and a mile of water between the implant and the satellite connection.</p>
<p>He was cold, and he was shaking, and his voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. “Jensen…?”</p>
<p>Staring at the screen, Frank swallowed drily, shaking his head. The images before him swam out of focus again, blurry until he blinked. The silence in the infolink was deafening.</p>
<p>“... Adam…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because I'm years late to the party and haven't played Mankind Divided yet I just pretend MD doesn't happen and go completely AU from Panchaea on.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank wasn’t good at denial. He had never needed to be good at denial. He was familiar with remorse, regret, anger, disappointment. Denial, however, was usually met with nothing but scorn.</p><p>It was five in the morning now, and Frank was still trying to get a connection with Jensen’s infolink. He had gone through all frequencies he had access to, then had switched to frequencies he had no access to, technically, and in the end had hacked into a military satellite. He was still sweating bullets half an hour later, but he seemed to have gone undetected.</p><p>It was all in vain, however. And while he still had a weak GPL signal, he knew from bitter and quite recent experience that the wearer of the implant could be dead, and the implant would still be broadcasting. Which was within the realm of possibilities if the wearer of that implant was adrift somewhere in the fucking Arctic Ocean.</p><p>His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His back hurt, and he was so angry he didn’t know how to deal with it. He wanted to strangle Darrow for the broadcast, but that only caused a feeling of helpless frustration because he would never get his hands on the man anyway. Trying to get back in contact with Jensen at least gave him the illusion of doing <em>something</em>.</p><p>Five hours later he was close to passing out. He had been up for more than forty hours now, and spent a lot of them stressed out of his mind. But as soon as he closed his eyes he saw Jensen’s… Adam’s…? face before him, close enough to kiss, and he picked up his mouse and went through another few lines of code that would hopefully get him into another ESA satellite.</p><p>Not much later he nodded off, and almost slid out of his chair. Realising that this wouldn’t do any good and he would just end up getting himself in trouble he relocated to his sofa, just to rest his eyes a moment. Just for a moment. He would go back to looking for Adam in a few minutes.</p><p>When Frank opened his eyes again it was three in the afternoon - when five minutes had turned into five hours. Cursing and swearing he jumped out of the sofa and fell into his desk chair again, but another two hours of trying to monitor the GPL signal and trying to get the infolink back yielded no result whatsoever.</p><p>Then he received an email from Athene telling him to go home, have a shower, eat something, and rest, and then come back to help her pick up the pieces when he was not close to collapsing.</p><p>Frank wondered how she could possibly know that, but apart from being clever and observant, she could also access everyone’s log, so she knew he hadn’t clocked out since he had come in Monday morning. Maybe he shouldn’t have pulled another all-nighter looking for Jensen Monday night, seeing as it hadn’t made a difference anyway.</p><p>And looking at his screen now, two whole days after he had shown up to work for what he had expected to be a normal day, Frank had to admit defeat, at least for now. He was of no use to anyone and anything like this, so he grabbed his backpack, and headed home.</p><p>Frank wasn’t hungry but he ordered a pizza, took a shower as hot as he could stand, and after wolfing down the pizza without tasting anything, he crawled into bed. He had been worried about not being able to sleep, but he had simply pushed himself too far, and he passed out the moment his head touched the pillow.</p>
<hr/><p>Knowing that Athene would send him right home again if he so much as stepped over the threshold of the lobby Frank tried to use the next day to rest and recover. He tried. He made it all of three hours, after dragging himself out of bed at eleven, until he was at his own computer, hacking into satellites of various nationalities trying to get a signal on Jensen.</p><p>He did however manage to stop himself from pulling yet another all-nighter, and felt marginally less exhausted when he left the house that Friday morning. The last day of a week right from hell. That the hell might end with that week, Frank didn’t dare to hope for.</p>
<hr/><p>At least now the bodies had been removed that had still been lying around when Frank had dragged himself home Wednesday night, and he tried his best to ignore the bloodstains still on the tarmac and even some walls. He couldn’t, didn’t want to imagine what the aftermath of all this might be, how life would now turn for any augmented person in this world.</p><p>The news in the cafeteria was still on, and that was the first time Frank heard Eliza Cassan report about the broadcast that had followed the end of the madness. Something about Purity First using biowarfare against augmented people, and how all this horror had not been anyone’s fault but theirs, with no one who had been driven mad to blame.</p><p>Frank wasn’t sure that this was the whole truth, but if he was being honest it was a truth that was good enough for him. Because it meant that people like him, people with augments, medically necessary or not, wouldn’t end up classified as monsters, or a danger to the human race.</p><p>Hopefully.</p><p>He got his coffee and headed back to his office, but as he powered up his computer he felt only a heavy sense of defeat. He knew. He knew perfectly well that Jensen would have gotten in touch with him by now, one way or another, if he had made it out of the collapsing structure alive. He had to face it. Adam Jensen was gone.</p><p>All that was left now was picking up the pieces, as Athena had mentioned the day before. Sarif hadn’t been in touch either, which meant he too hadn’t made it out alive. It was difficult to imagine what a new CEO would mean for Sarif Industries now, in the aftermath of this Armageddon, but it wasn’t as if Frank could do anything about it, one way or another.</p><p>So he did what he now had to do; he headed for the basement and the server room, and was relieved beyond means to express it that just as he arrived, a team of cleaners left the area. Three or four people had died in there, after their estimate, and Frank couldn’t blame them for being grey-faced and shaky. The bodies had been removed, and now the blood stains were gone as well, and Frank tried to ignore the knowledge that people had died in here in a horrible, cruel way.</p><p>Some of the servers had been damaged, cables had been torn out, and so Frank rolled up his sleeves, opened the storage room for the spare hardware, and got to work repairing the server banks. It took him the better part of the day.</p><p>It wasn’t long after he had returned to his office that there was a cautious knock on the door. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone about any IT issues, whatever the fuck it would be, but he wasn’t far gone enough as of yet to yell at whoever that was to fuck off.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>The door opened slowly, and Weber stepped into his office, a plate covered with a dishcloth in her hand. She was still pale, and obviously hadn’t slept much either. No surprise there. She probably had to deal with children having nightmares.</p><p>“Mr Pritchard,” she said hesitantly, and put the plate onto his desk. “I have to thank you. You have my deepest gratitude.”</p><p>“What for?” Frank asked, and leaned back, crossing his arms.</p><p>“For… what you did.” She looked up from the plate. “I know project management wasn’t considered a vital function, and I don’t know who put my name and Mrs Fitzgerald’s on the list for the biochip fix, but I have a suspicion.” The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “Words aren’t enough, Mr Pritchard. And this is ridiculously insufficient either.” She removed the dishcloth to reveal a plate filled with cake slices. Chocolate brownies and, by the look of it, lemon sponge.</p><p>“I… uh... Thank you,” he muttered, not knowing what else to say.</p><p>“No, I thank you,” she said, wadding the dishcloth between her hands. “If not for you, my children’s mother might be a killer now, or they might not have a mother at all anymore. If you ever need anything, if I ever can do anything for you… all you have to do is ask, and I will do what I can.”</p><p>“That’s not really necessary,” Frank replied, trying to smile. “But thank you.”</p><p>She nodded, and after a moment’s hesitation, she headed back for the door. “Thank you again, Mr Pritchard,” she said.</p><p>“Frank,” Frank now said, because… it felt wrong, somehow. “It’s Frank.”</p><p>The smile that appeared on her face now looked more alive. “Christina,” she said. “Don’t hesitate to call me when you need someone to talk to.” She hesitated, then she returned to the desk and took one of the post-it notes on Frank’s desk.</p><p>“Here’s my private number. Call me, any time.”</p><p>“I… will. Thank you.” He wouldn’t, of course, it wasn’t who he was. He was touched by the offer however, and huffed out a heavy breath of air after she had closed the door behind her.</p><p>When Malik found him later that day, obviously having cried and trying not to show it, he shared some of the cake with her, and they spent some time in silent company, he at his desk, she on the sofa. He knew they were both trying to cope with Jensen’s death, with the feeling of loss and of pain and confusion, but neither of them talked about it.</p><p>It was close to five that afternoon when his phone rang, and it wasn’t as if he had been in the middle of something important, but he really didn’t want to handle whatever was being thrown his way now. He still answered the phone, knowing against all better knowledge he was hoping for some news about Jensen and scoffing at himself for daring to.</p><p><em>“Mr Frank Pritchard?”</em> It was a female and unfamiliar voice.</p><p>“Speaking.”</p><p>
  <em>“I am Dr Gallagher, from the LIMB clinic in Fairbanks.”</em>
</p><p>“Alaska?” Frank asked, realising how stupid that sounded. His hands began to tremble.</p><p><em>“Indeed.”</em> A pause, and the sound of paper. <em>“Do you know an Adam Jensen?”</em></p><p>Frank felt his knees go weak, and his stomach turn, and he was glad he was sitting down because he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself on his feet.</p><p>“Yes…” His voice hardly carried. “We… work together, at Sarif Industries, in Detroit.”</p><p>On the sofa, Malik shot upright, staring at Frank out of widening eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“Good. Mr Jensen has you as his next of kin in his files.”</em>
</p><p>“He what?!” Frank resisted the urge to stare at his phone because… what the fuck? His heart was racing so hard it hurt against his ribcage. He stared at Malik who stared back at him, and with shaking fingers he put the call on speaker.</p><p>
  <em>“You are listed as his next of kin, Mr Pritchard. Mr Jensen was found by the coastal guard this morning, washed ashore near Utqiagvik, and flown here for immediate treatment. There are… issues, however. We need you to make the decisions about further possible treatment.”</em>
</p><p>Frank looked at Malik again, who looked like he felt. Shocked, and utterly confused. And with a small sliver of hope in her eyes that she was trying to keep at bay.</p><p>
  <em>“Mr Pritchard?”</em>
</p><p>“Yes, I…” Frank said, his voice close to breaking. “I…”</p><p>Malik was storming out of the office, and Frank was in no doubt that she was on her way to the chopper, ready to be in their air as soon as Frank had gotten on board.</p><p>“I’m on my way. I’m still in Detroit, and it’s… but I’m on my way.”</p><p>
  <em>“Good. We will speak soon.”</em>
</p><p>“We will.”</p><p>Frank ended the call and stared at his phone.</p><p>“What the fuck, Jensen,” he said, shaking his head. “What… the fuck.”</p><p>But there was no time to lose, and he could continue being confused once they were in the air en route to Alaska. Frank grabbed his jacket and set off in a sprint towards the helipad.</p>
<hr/><p>They had been in the air for almost an hour when Malik finally broke the silence.</p><p>
  <em>“Next of kin?”</em>
</p><p>Frank could only shake his head. “I had no idea, Malik. He didn’t tell me, and he never asked.”</p><p>
  <em>“Oh. Oh shit.”</em>
</p><p>Frank just pressed his lips together and crossed his arms. He knew that Jensen’s parents were dead, and that Dr Reed really didn’t qualify for next of kin anymore. But there had to be several people a lot more suited for this role than Frank Pritchard. Sarif, maybe, or even better, Malik. The two were friends, after all.</p><p>But he? Why would Jensen choose him, of all people? And since he knew that after what happened in his office Jensen would not have had the time to change it, Frank had to have been his next of kin for a while now.</p><p>But all the wondering would lead to nothing, and he would have to wait for his answers until he could talk to the man again. But he couldn’t ignore a dark feeling of dread when he thought about that; you didn’t call in next of kin into a clinic for nothing, after all. Decisions about further treatment meant that Jensen himself wasn’t in a state to make a decision like that, and that didn’t mean anything good.</p><p>It felt like they had been in the air for days when Malik finally announced they were approaching Fairbanks. They touched down twenty minutes later, and Frank entered the hospital lobby with a dry throat and cold, clammy hands. It was already evening, and Frank could see another unpleasant all-nighter approaching.</p><p>“Yes?” The receptionist looked up at him.</p><p>“Frank Pritchard,” Frank replied. “I’m here as… as… a next of kin for Adam Jensen. Dr Gallagher called me earlier today.”</p><p>“One moment please. Take a seat.”</p><p>Frank looked into the direction she was pointing at and nodded, and sank into one of the plastic chairs trying to keep his breathing calm. He was getting more and more anxious with every passing minute.</p><p>“Mr Pritchard?”</p><p>He looked up at a woman in her late fifties, by the look of it. “Yes?”</p><p>“I’m Dr Gallagher. Please, if you would follow me?”</p><p>Frank got up again, and they headed for the nearest elevator.</p><p>“So…” he managed after a moment. “What happened?”</p><p>“We are not sure.” She met his eyes. “We were hoping you could help us shed some light on the case. Was he on a ship?”</p><p>“As far as I…” Frank cleared his throat. “He was in Panchaea.”</p><p>Dr Gallagher’s eyebrows rose almost into her hairline. “In Panchaea, you say?”</p><p>“That’s the last location I know of.” Frank shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I have no explanation how he could reach the coast of Alaska.”</p><p>“He is very heavily augmented,” Dr Gallagher said slowly. “That had probably something to do with it.”</p><p>The look she gave him was more speculative than questioning. But since she had him in her care she had to know about a lot of those implants anyway. Was she testing how deep his knowledge ran, to keep patient confidentiality? Or rather, she was trying to gauge if there were issues about some of those implants being classified.</p><p>“He has a Sentinel Health Implant, and an autonomous rebreather.” Frank looked at her.</p><p>“He also seems to have a lot of… military grade augmentations,” Dr Gallagher said slowly.</p><p>“You have to take that up with David Sarif himself,” Frank said curtly, holding her gaze. “I am honestly not qualified to answer that question with anything else but ‘yes’.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a hiss. His anxiety kicking in with full force again Frank followed Dr Gallagher along several corridors and through two doors she unlocked with the swipe card clipped to her lab coat.</p><p>First when they had reached what had to be the room Jensen was in did she look at him again.</p><p>“Mr Pritchard,” she began. “I have to inform you that Mr Jensen’s state is critical. He is on full life support. When he was found he was already in cardiac arrest, and he was resuscitated several times on his way here. I can give you a moment with him, but then we have to discuss the possible treatment.”</p><p>Not knowing what to say to this Frank just nodded. Then he opened the door and very hesitantly stepped into the room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Attention:</b> The temporary character death happens in this chapter. If descriptions of ICU and life support <b>and the ending of life support</b> upsets you then proceed with caution.</p><p>And I do have a plan, I really do. There is a method to my madness.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jensen was hardly visible amidst all those tubes and cables and machinery, and Frank felt his heart crack almost audibly when he looked at his face. Pale and waxen and so unnaturally still, he might have been dead already. So vulnerable and helpless in that bed, kept alive by machines, it was so wrong that Frank couldn’t bear to look at him for longer than a few heartbeats.</p><p>Dr Gallagher was waiting for him in the hallway. “Please come with me,” she said, and her tone was a lot gentler than before.</p><p>Frank wondered what that said about his face and what he looked like right now.</p><p>“Mr Pritchard,” Dr Gallagher said after closing the door of a small office behind her. “As you could see, Mr Jensen’s condition is critical, and I have to inform you that his chances are slim, at best.”</p><p>“I… figured as much,” Frank replied tonelessly.</p><p>“Seeing as he was being kept somewhat alive for a very long time by his augmentations, it might be possible to have him independent from direct life support again, by the means of cranial implants. How many, would depend on the damage. But,” and here her voice became almost severe, “he has no measurable brain activity anymore. Implants would restore basic brain function so he could live without life support. His consciousness, his awareness, is not likely to return, and if so, only on a very low level.”</p><p>“So… Frank’s voice broke on the word, and he had to swallow a few times, and clear his throat. “So, he won’t… he won’t come back.” His voice felt brittle, the words ash on his tongue.</p><p>“Not as the man you remember, no. I am sorry.”</p><p>“But…” Frank was struggling to get his thoughts in order. Only hours ago he had been mourning Jensen’s death, now he was here in a hospital, talking with a doctor about the fact that he wasn’t. Not quite. Not… in a biological sense. But Jensen, the Adam Jensen he knew, was gone already. “So what… what do you suggest?”</p><p>“As a hospital, we are always obligated to take every measure available to keep the patient alive.” Her voice was stern and firm, but not unkind. “We will proceed with the surgery, unless you decide otherwise.”</p><p>“I?” Frank felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. “What… what kind of decision can I make in this case? I’m not a doctor!”</p><p>Dr Gallagher took a deep breath, and her words were gentler now, her eyes kind. “You can make the decision not to proceed with further treatment.”</p><p>It took Frank a moment to process the thought. “I... can say no to that?”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“And then?” he croaked, unable to keep his voice steady.</p><p>“If you so decide, we will forego surgery and end the current treatment.”</p><p>“You mean…” Frank took a few shaky breaths. “You’ll pull the plug.”</p><p>And just like that, Adam Jensen’s life, his very existence, was dropped into Frank’s hands. And he wanted very much to scream at Dr Gallagher to leave him the fuck alone, and run away as fast and as far away as he could, to hide under the biggest rock he could find.</p><p>“I… I need a moment, I think.”</p><p>“Of course. Did you come here alone? Maybe talking to a familiar person will help you.”</p><p>I… I…” Frank ran a few fingers through his hair. “I guess.”</p><p>“We will not decide anything tonight, however.” Dr Gallagher closed the office door again. “I suggest you stay the night in a hotel and come back tomorrow morning. I will be here from five o’clock.”</p><p>Frank nodded, and left the ICU on weak, shaky legs. “Malik,” he muttered through the infolink. “Where are you?”</p><p>
  <em>“Still on the roof, why?”</em>
</p><p>“I… could I talk to you for a minute?”</p><p><em>“Uh… sure?”</em> Malik hesitated. <em>“Do you want to come up here?”</em></p><p>“I… I think I need to sit down for a moment. Can you find me in the lobby?”</p><p>There was a moment of silence.</p><p>
  <em>“Sure.”</em>
</p><p>Once back in the lobby Frank found himself a chair in a corner, as far away from the traffic as he could, but he didn’t have to wait long until Malik entered the lobby as well. She looked around, spotted him, and came almost running.</p><p>“Christ, Pritchard…” She sat down next to him, worry etched into her face. “That bad?”</p><p>Frank needed a moment to get himself under control, because he felt himself rapidly approach the end of his tether, and he didn’t want to crumble into pieces in front of Malik’s eyes. He did manage to keep himself together well enough, but by the time he had ended his eyes were burning, and his throat was clogged.</p><p>It seemed like all he had been doing these last few days was trying not to bawl like a baby. It was so humiliating he couldn’t put into words, not even thoughts, how much he loathed feeling so bloody weak all the time.</p><p>“So…” Malik swallowed. “What… what do you think?”</p><p>“I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore, Malik.” Frank stared straight ahead. “I only know that the Jensen we knew won’t come back no matter what they do.”</p><p>“So you’re gonna let him die?”</p><p>Frank finally looked at her again, eyes burning. “He is already dead, Malik! He doesn’t have any brain activity anymore, and without those machines, he’d already begin decomposing! And no amount of cranial implants and biochips is going to change that!” He almost choked on those words, and tried to calm his breathing. “At best, he’ll be in a vegetative state, a nursing case, completely helpless… and at worst, some of his higher brain functions might be restored so he… so he might be aware of what happened to him. Stuck in a helpless body, drooling on his pillow and shitting in a diaper.”</p><p>“Pritchard…” Malik took a shaky breath. “But you can’t…”</p><p>“Can’t what?” Frank said, hating how weak and pathetic he sounded. “Do you really think he would want that?”</p><p>Malik stared at him for a moment. “He wouldn’t,” she whispered. “But I could…” She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t do it.”</p><p>Frank wasn’t sure he could do it either, but the alternative… wasn’t one, really. The thought of Jensen like that, less than half conscious in a vegetative state, completely helpless… That proud, strong soul trapped in a useless lump of flesh and circuits for God knows how many years… no. No.</p><p>No, that simply wouldn’t do.</p><p>No, by God, he didn’t want to make this decision either, but the thought of chickening out of this, and what the consequences would be, were worse, somehow. That answered the question, really. The question if he could. Because give his okay to that kind of treatment, he could not, and that left only one choice.</p><p>Giving up on a hotel room as a waste of money Frank got himself another mediocre coffee from the machine in the lobby and sat down again. Malik was determined to stay with him despite him trying to urge her to get some rest, but he was in no position to judge anyone for not being able to sleep right now.</p><p>Frank still wanted to run away from this, from everything and from everyone. He didn’t, of course. He couldn’t. Only days ago the fate of the whole world had been dropped into Jensen’s hands, and he had not flinched from it. Frank owed him that much, to make this decision, even if he couldn’t do this with as much grace, dignity, or determination.</p><p>Eventually the grey light of dawn began to filter through the high windows of the lobby, slowly replacing the cold, artificial neon lights, and long shadows of the ancient houseplants on the windowsills crept across the opposite walls.</p><p>Frank crumpled the paper cup in his hand, and watched a drop of coffee slip through the gap between bottom and wall of the cup as it split between his clenched fingers.</p><p>“You’re really doing this, aren’t you,” Malik whispered as he got up.</p><p>Frank looked at her, and tried to ignore the tears on her cheeks. “Would you really want him to suffer like that?” His voice was hoarse and unsteady. He felt weak, and brittle, and fragile, and he felt a certain kinship to the crushed and leaking cup in his hand.</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t want that,” Malik replied. “But I couldn’t… you’re stronger than I am, Frank.”</p><p>“Strength has nothing to do with this, Faridah.” Frank swallowed and shook his head as he dropped the remains of the cup into the nearest trash can. Because he had never in his life felt so weak.</p><p>He was about to turn around when Malik reached out and took one of his hands between hers. She got up without letting go.</p><p>“Do you want me to come along?” she asked softly.</p><p>“I…” Frank met her eyes. <em>No</em>, he thought. “Yes,” he said, not knowing why.</p><p>Malik nodded, and followed him towards the elevators.</p>
<hr/><p>It seemed like Dr Gallagher saw the decision already written on his face, because she asked him, in a low and gentle voice, to follow her into the doctor’s office again. Malik had to stay outside the ICU, and slowly sat down in the nearest chair in the waiting area.</p><p>Dr Gallagher closed the door behind them, and explained Frank’s choices again.</p><p>“I…” Frank took a deep, heavy breath. “I know he wouldn’t want that. I just… this isn’t easy, you know?”</p><p>“I know.” Dr Gallagher looked at him with deep sympathy. “I know how hard this decision is. But you, as the closest person to him, know what’s best, and what he would want.”</p><p>It went up at that moment that she probably thought he was Jensen’s boyfriend, but he didn’t have the energy to correct her on that. He also worried that if he told her as much he might no longer be considered qualified to make that decision, and he couldn’t let that happen.</p><p>Apart from that it didn’t matter anyway, did it? Jensen wasn’t in a position to deny that assumption or be embarrassed about it, and after this, Frank would never set foot into LIMB Fairbanks again.</p><p>Then Dr Gallagher handed him a clipboard and a pen.</p><p>And Frank realised he had to sign the paper that stated his decision. He took the pen, fingers shaking so bad that he was about to drop it. And if he hadn’t seen Jensen already, if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes that Jensen was already gone, he would feel like he was signing his death warrant. He kept telling himself that, but that only made it marginally easier.</p><p>Frank felt sick to his stomach when he handed the clipboard back.</p><p>“I assume you want to say goodbye?” Dr Gallagher asked gently.</p><p>It felt like a second punch, but now that he had taken this responsibility, he couldn’t just pretend it was over and walk away. He needed a moment to take his breath, however, but he nodded.</p><p>“I’d like to ask… our friend, if she wants to say goodbye too.”</p><p>Dr Gallagher nodded, and Frank dragged himself out of the ICU on legs that felt like lead. This was surreal. This wasn’t happening. Someone had hacked into his brain and was giving him the worst hallucination he could think of.</p><p>“Malik?”</p><p>She looked up at him, eyes red and cheeks wet.</p><p>Frank shook his head. “I was… I was wondering… I wanted to ask if you want to say goodbye.”</p><p>Malik swallowed hard, but then shook her head. “I want to remember him as he was,” she whispered. “I can’t… sorry. I can’t.”</p><p>Frank hesitated for another moment before he turned around to head back, and entered Jensen’s room with a cold, heavy heart, his skin crawling and his stomach turning. Dr Gallagher and two nurses were already there, and were preparing things Frank didn’t want to look at or know about.</p><p>He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say without breaking down, but he couldn’t just walk out and pretend it was over already. So he pulled the nearest chair to the bedside and sat down, eyes on Jensen’s lifeless face.</p><p>“Jensen, I…” But what was there to say? Even if Jensen could hear him, which he didn’t as he had no brain activity anymore, there was nothing Frank could say that held any meaning.</p><p>
  <em>“I think you’re… you’re on your own, Jensen.”</em>
</p><p>The last words he had said to Jensen. The worst possible words he would ever have been able to think of. <em>You’re on your own.</em></p><p>“Mr Pritchard?”</p><p>Frank looked up at Dr Gallagher who stood next to the machine. Asking for one last confirmation before a decision was made that was irreversible. One last look at Jensen’s face however, and Frank nodded.</p><p>And then, not knowing why and not understanding why he even felt the urge, he took Jensen’s hand. It was lifeless, limp, and cold, and somewhat heavier than a human hand would be. Maybe something was left of Jensen to feel that he wasn’t alone. Maybe it was only for Frank’s own sake, to know he hadn’t left Jensen alone in his final moments after all.</p><p>
  <em>You’re on your own, Jensen.</em>
</p><p>Frank closed his fingers around the lifeless synthetic ones in his hand.</p><p>“I’m here, Jensen,” he muttered, and could hardly recognise his own voice. “For what it’s worth, you’re not alone.”</p><p>The sounds of buttons being pressed sounded like gunshots, each one felt as painful as a blow. The rhythmic beeping stuttered, slowed, and stuttered again, slowed down, and then, finally, turned into a single, continuous note. Like a song of death. Frank almost laughed at the stupid, morbid thought. He didn’t. If he would allow himself to make a single sound right now… he didn’t even want to finish that thought.</p><p>Jensen’s face was blurry. Dr Gallagher’s voice came from far, far away.</p><p>“I am sorry for your loss, Mr Pritchard.”</p><p>Frank felt strangely detached even from himself as he slowly let go of Jensen’s hand to put it gently back onto the bed.</p><p>He closed his eyes, and opened them again, but the world was still blurry. He angrily wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, but it didn’t help. His legs weak and his insides cold he finally managed to move, got up, and took one last look at Jensen’s face.</p><p>“Godspeed, Adam,” he whispered, before he turned around and left the room in all but a run.</p><p>He needed to get out of here or he would combust. Or maybe crumble to dust. Tear apart like an old, brittle piece of cloth.</p><p>Malik looked up again when he staggered through the door. He fell into the chair beside her.</p><p>“Is it… is it over?”</p><p>Frank stared straight ahead for a moment, and then he nodded. “He’s gone,” he whispered, ignoring Malik’s helpless little sob.</p><p>He wondered why he felt so cold, but other than that, he felt nothing. He had been about to cry, back in that room, but now he felt… nothing.</p><p>He felt nothing when he returned to the ICU to sort out more paperwork, and he still felt nothing when he pocketed the death certificate. He felt nothing when they put the bodybag in the loading hold of the VTOL, and he still felt nothing when Malik left Fairbanks and headed south again for Detroit.</p>
<hr/><p><em>“I guess we have to take him to the city morgue first,”</em> Malik asked him shortly before they arrived. Her voice was still trembling.</p><p>“I guess,” Frank replied, and at that moment he realised something else: he was now also responsible for Jensen’s worldly possessions, for sorting out his things and his apartment, and for organising his goddamn funeral. Jensen had no living family, no one was left but him.</p><p>He was in way over his head. He had no idea how he could deal with all of this, and he was feeling like a marooned sailor, only water and no help in sight. He was…</p><p>Frank took a slow, shaky breath, and hesitantly reached into his pocket to produce a slightly crumpled scrap of paper with a number on it. And looking at it, he felt a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe he wasn’t quite as alone in this as he had feared.</p>
<hr/><p>Frank spent almost an hour sitting in his cold, empty apartment, staring at the note. It was already past eight and he wondered if he could call her at all now, but he knew he was procrastinating, he was trying to duck out of it, as if it would make Jensen’s death any less real.</p><p>He huffed out a heavy breath, and picked up his phone. Maybe she hadn’t meant it. It had just been her being polite. He shouldn’t bother her with his own inability to deal with his own problems. She had kids and enough on her plate.</p><p>It rang five times before she answered.</p><p>
  <em>“Christina Weber?”</em>
</p><p>“Christina… it’s… it’s Frank. Sorry for calling so late.”</p><p><em>“Frank?”</em> Her voice was instantly alert. <em>“What’s wrong?”</em></p><p>“I… I was wondering if…” He took another deep breath. “Have you ever organised a funeral?”</p><p>There was a long moment of silence. <em>“What happened?”</em></p><p>“Jensen, he…” Frank swallowed. “I was listed as his next of kin… He was found by the coast guard, but they couldn’t…” His voice broke and he swallowed again. “They couldn’t save him, and he’s in the city morgue now, and I don’t know what to do!”</p><p><em>“Take a breath,”</em> she said firmly. <em>“And drink a glass of water. What’s your address?”</em></p><p>“You don’t have to-”</p><p><em>“Yes, I do.”</em> He could hear rustling in the background. <em>“What’s your address?”</em></p><p>Frank decided that it would be a lot easier if he stopped pretending it didn’t matter that he was alone, and told her. It was on her, after all, if she wanted to waste precious time on this useless failure of a man who couldn’t sort out his own shit.</p><p>
  <em>“I will be there as soon as I can.”</em>
</p><p>Frank didn’t really have to wait long. It was less than twenty minutes later when there was a knock on his door.</p><p>“How many speed limits did you break?” he asked as he opened the door.</p><p>Christina kicked off her shoes. “Speed limits are for pussies.”</p><p>She took one look at him and ushered him towards the sofa after taking off her jacket. Then she headed into the kitchen, and after some rummaging around, emerged somewhat later with two mugs of coffee.</p><p>She sat down, put the coffees onto the table, and turned around to face him.</p><p>“Do you need a hug?”</p><p>“I don’t hug,” Frank snapped back, but then looked up, appalled at his own words.</p><p>Christina just looked back at him, mildly, and with a small smile. “Offer still stands.”</p><p>Frank dropped his gaze again and shook his head.</p><p>“I have organised a funeral before,” she said then. “That was in Germany, but I can’t imagine procedures are that much different here. So here is what we do.” She put a hand on his arm, but showed no reaction when he shook it off. “I know you aren’t hungry, but you will force yourself to eat something, because neglecting your body won’t help anyone and will only make it worse. Then you will take a shower and go to bed. You probably won’t be able to sleep, but as I said. Your body needs rest. I will be back here Monday morning at eight, and we will go to a funeral parlour together. You are not alone in this, so you don’t have to worry about that.”</p><p>Frank couldn’t look up. “Why… why are you doing this?”</p><p>“Not because I feel obligated, or in debt, or something.” Christina kept her voice gentle. “You need help. I can help. There’s no reason not to be here. I’m here because I want to be here.”</p><p>Frank swallowed hard. He could feel himself approach an edge he did not want to reach as long as she was here. And she tilted her head a little and frowned at him.</p><p>But just as Frank was about to say something in his defense she got up and headed for the kitchen again. He tried to ignore her while staring straight ahead, and tried his best to keep it together. He didn’t look up at her when she came back.</p><p>“Here,” she said, and put a plate down in front of him. A ham sandwich, with cucumber slices and everything. “Thankfully you have a surprisingly well equipped fridge for an IT nerd bachelor.”</p><p>“Not all cliches apply,” Frank muttered, and stared at the food.</p><p>“Eat that, please,” Christina said, and headed towards the door and her shoes. “And call me if you need anything.”</p><p>Frank just nodded, and kept staring at the sandwich until he could head the door fall shut. He tried, he really did, but after the second bite he felt his stomach turn, and it was all he could do not to heave. Trying to keep the precious little food down he got up and made himself another coffee, but it went cold on him as he was staring at the wall, sitting on the sofa feeling like turned to stone.</p><p>It was long past midnight when he finally managed to unfreeze himself, and he did manage to take a shower, at least. Then he fell into his bed, and pulled the blanket over his head, and spent the rest of the night trying not to go completely to pieces.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3rm0pyl43/pseuds/th3rm0pyl43">th3rm0pyl43</a> for allowing me to access their incredibly detailed and awesome headcanon collection of Adam Jensen's augmentations, it has names and functions for everything. Amazing, really. I borrowed the Aurora processor and the neural coordinators from there. The 'doohickeys' are named with the help of <a href="https://www.seventhsanctum.com/generate.php?Genname=sfmedtool">this website.</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank had dozed off at one point during the small hours of the night, but had woken up again shortly after eight. Now he was on his third coffee… or was it the fourth? He had lost count, but it didn’t matter anyway, because he had to somehow get through this day before he could do something useful again tomorrow.</p><p>He had to do something, he realised then, because all he was doing right now was stare at the mental image in his memories, of Jensen on his deathbed, of the black bodybag, of the doctor in the morgue, of a small white note hanging off a black, mechanical toe.</p><p>And of bright, artificial irises, so close that he could feel a breath on his skin that wasn’t his own.</p><p>But putting on clothes and taking a brisk walk in the cold November air didn’t dispel the images, and entering the little corner shop where he usually bought his booze and his smokes he decided he was finally out of fucks. He had tried to quit, he really had, but now he bought three packs of his preferred brand of cigarettes and a lighter. Instead of a bottle of cheap whiskey he bought a handful of chocolate bars and a large bag of Skittles, but did throw in a can of beer as a last minute decision.</p><p>Not wanting to be stuck in his empty apartment alone, in silence and with nothing to look at but memories, he made his way through the dark, gloomy streets of Detroit until he passed Elmwood Cemetery. He stood there for a moment staring at the old stone gate, then spun around and headed back home after all.</p><p>Instead of entering his apartment however he made his way to the roof via the utility access stairs, and there he settled down with his back against the wall that held the door to the stairwell. It was cold but he was out of the wind, at least, and he lit up the first smoke only moments after sitting down.</p><p>After so long a time without, the smoke burned in his lungs upon the first inhale, but he let it escape through his nose on a long huff of breath, ignoring the sting.</p><p>Frank spent almost two hours on the roof, smoking furiously as if enough nicotine would somehow make him feel better, or less bad, or at least different. But in the end he threw the two other, unopened packs as far away as he could and headed back inside.</p><p>He poured the beer into the sink without taking as much as a sip, and after stuffing a chocolate and a Cyberboost bar into his face, he took a shower and went to bed.</p>
<hr/><p>The persistent ringing of his phone tore Frank out of a shallow doze, and he stared groggily at the screen and a number he didn’t recognise. At fucking four o’clock in the morning.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>
  <i>“Frank Pritchard?”</i>
</p><p>He began to loathe calls that started like this, because they didn’t mean anything good. Apparently this week started as abysmally as the last one had ended.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>
  <i>“You are Mr Adam Jensen’s partner?”</i>
</p><p><i>I am his coworker and we technically couldn’t really stand each other and I have no fucking clue what he was thinking putting me into his files as next of kin, that asshole.</i> “Yes.”</p><p>
  <i>“Deputy Charles Clydesdale from the DPD. I am sorry to inform you that there was a break-in at the city morgue last night. Several augmented bodies were stolen, Mr Jensen’s among them.”</i>
</p><p>Frank slowly sat up, and stared at the wall opposite him, and the poster of an ancient video game he had paid half a fortune for.</p><p>“You’re kidding me.”</p><p>
  <i>“I wish I was. We will keep you informed.”</i>
</p><p>What next? What else could possibly go wrong?</p><p>Frank stared at his phone, and barely resisted the urge to throw it at the wall. He was done. He was so fucking done with everything. He wanted this to be over with. He wanted to wake up from this consistent nightmare he had been trapped in since Panchaea had collapsed, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, because he wasn’t asleep. He wanted to bash his head in. He wanted for someone to put him out of his misery.</p><p>“Malik?”</p><p>Malik’s infolink was dead. He could sympathise.</p><p>Coffee. He needed more coffee. And although he doubted that any amount of coffee would help him cope, no coffee would be even worse. He made it through three cups before deciding he needed to call in the cavalry.</p><p>Shoulders slumping, he went into call history, and pressed Last Call.</p><p>
  <i>“Frank?”</i>
</p><p>“I’m sorry to wake you up…”</p><p>
  <i>“I was already awake. What can I do for you?”</i>
</p><p>“I don’t know…” Frank hated how weak his voice sounded. “I just got a call from the police. Someone stole Jensen’s body from the morgue last night, among others.”</p><p><i>“Oh for fuck’s sake.”</i> He could hear her say something in German, to someone in the background. An answer in the same language, and he heard Christina’s voice again. <i>“Sit tight, I’m on my way.”</i></p><p>Frank didn’t even have the energy to thank her and just ended the call. He felt so heavy he could hardly move, and he had barely finished dressing when Christina knocked on his door.</p><p>“Okay,” she said as she walked over to him and took one of his hands, and this time he let her. “I was thinking on my way over, and I think it might not be as bad as it feels right now. He has a GPL implant too, right?”</p><p>Frank nodded, and suddenly felt that he could breathe again. Why hadn’t he thought of that?</p><p>“So we’re going to Sarif Industries now, where you can track him. When you have found him, we will call the police. Come on.”</p><p>Frank stared at her for a moment. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know how to ask. He wasn’t good at any interpersonal shit, and his social skills were most politely described with ‘lacking’ and more realistically with ‘abysmal’.</p><p>But then she took a step forward and put her arms around him, and although the top of her head barely reached his chin he felt himself vanish into her embrace. The sensation was a strange mix of soft and squishy, and solid as a rock.</p><p>It was… nice. It was a lot more comforting than he had been able to imagine. She wasn’t nearly old enough to be his mother, but maybe this was how it could feel to have a sister. This was how it felt to have someone who really cared.</p><p>Then she let go and stepped back, but Frank couldn’t meet her eyes. She was tactful enough not to mention it and just turned around to head for the stairwell.</p><p>On their way downstairs she dug into her handbag, and produced a granola bar that she thrust out at him. The look on her face told Frank that it was useless to resist so he took it, and forced it down on their way over to SI headquarters.</p><p>Frank was in for another surprise, however.</p><p>Because there, in the atrium, flanked by two security guards and surrounded by several members of staff including Athene, was none other than David Sarif himself.</p>
<hr/><p>“Sarif?” Frank stared at the man, knowing without doubt he had to look like an idiot. “What the hell…?”</p><p>“Frank!” Sarif seemed genuinely pleased to see him. “Thank god you’re alright!”</p><p>“For… a given value of,” Frank muttered.</p><p>Sarif smiled at him, and now Frank realised how worn the man looked. He was pale, his eyes shadowed, and he was carrying his augmented arm in a sling.</p><p>“I owe you so much Frank, I can’t even begin to think of how to express my gratitude,” Sarif said then. “You saved my life with that biochip update, no doubt. And you also saved quite a few important members of this company. I’m forever in your debt.”</p><p>Frank could only shrug. He had been doing his job, nothing more.</p><p>“Where’s Adam?”</p><p>Even though he should have expected the question, he still felt like punched in the guts, again.</p><p>“He…” He took a deep breath. “He’s dead.”</p><p>“He what?” Sarif stared at him with widening eyes. “It’s not…”</p><p>“Possible?” Frank shrugged, huffing out a mirthless laugh. “He didn’t make it out of Panchaea alive. Or… barely so because-”</p><p>“What do you mean, barely?” Sarif took a step towards him. “Is he dead, or not?”</p><p>“He is now,” Frank snapped. “The Alaska coast guard found him washed ashore and he was transferred to LIMB Fairbanks, but he had no brain activity anymore and-.”</p><p>“So he wasn’t completely dead when they found him?” Sarif asked, fingers of his hand opening and closing. “Then he might still be alive!”</p><p>“What?” Frank almost laughed. “Sarif, they couldn’t save him! I was there when they pulled the plug! I was holding his hand when he flatlined!”</p><p>“You what…?”</p><p>Well, that was that. Now everyone at SI would also think they’d been boyfriends. But fuck this shit. Frank no longer cared.</p><p>“Look, Frank…” Sarif pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come with me,” he said then, and headed towards the escalator.</p><p>Frank followed him, torn between hope and anger, and was about to burst when Sarif closed the door to the Tech Lab behind them.</p><p>“Look,” Sarif said again. “There is a chance, a slim one, I admit, that he is still alive. You see, one of the top secret augments was…” He paused with a thoughtful frown. “You could call it a dead man switch. In case of life functions being seriously threatened, but not by something as abrupt as, say, a gunshot, it puts the whole organism into a deep stasis. All higher and most of the lower functions are put on hold, and the body is being kept alive on a cellular and molecular level. Admittedly, it doesn’t look good if it’s been so long, and the thing is an experimental prototype of a completely new level of nanotechnology... but as long as there’s still a trace of energy in the converters, we could still get him back. All you have to do is find him.”</p><p>Frank was sure that any word he might say now would push him over the brink of collapse. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t…</p><p>“Frank,” Sarif said gently. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t supposed to know.”</p><p>“Strange how that doesn’t make me feel any better.”</p><p>“It’s been hard for you, no doubt,” Sarif said and headed for the door. “So try not to beat yourself up over this.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Frank sat down at his desk and started the computer. “How come you are still alive?”</p><p>“Well.” Sarif turned around again. “I was sure we were done for. I managed to hide away in the machine room with a few other survivors. Adam found us though, and after he shut off that damn transmission he came back to help us get into the emergency submersibles.” He scratched his forehead. “But then we… we heard it over the intercom. Hugh was… he sounded like a madman, honestly. I wonder what got into him.”</p><p>“We all do,” Frank said flatly, and typed in his password.</p><p>“Yeah, well, he said that no one must ever know what happened, that he would change the broadcast, and that he could let no one leave alive. I can only guess that he took advantage of the path that Adam cleared on his way down to make it to the broadcast station. He probably has some secret access elevators too. Anyway, Adam raced back to the broadcast station to stop him after getting us out. I assumed…” Sarif sighed again, heavily. “I assumed he made it out in time.”</p><p>“And you?” Frank looked at his screen while starting up the software he needed. “What happened after you left?”</p><p>Sarif shrugged. “You see, no one of us really knew how to steer that damn thing, and when we finally managed to break the surface we were all close to suffocating. We figured out how to set off a distress signal, at least.”</p><p>He paused for a moment, and Frank looked up at him. Sarif looked genuinely distressed, and even more tired than before.</p><p>“I don’t really remember what happened then, Frank. We were all dehydrated and hypothermic and I was suffering from the beginnings of Neuropozyne withdrawals. I woke up yesterday in the clinic in Moscow. Apparently they found us off the coast of Siberia and flew us in.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “I immediately called Faridah to get me home, once I was clear in the head again. I arrived less than two hours ago.”</p><p>Frank nodded and kept staring at his screen. The fact that Jensen might not be dead was still rolling around in his head like a golf ball in an empty box. First Jensen had been dead, lost when Panchaea collapsed, then he had not been dead, then he had actually died, but now he hadn’t actually died, after all. Or maybe he had, and couldn’t be brought back.</p><p>He felt a headache coming in like no other before. It took him all he had to focus on what he was doing.</p><p>“Got anything yet?”</p><p>“He’s not left the Detroit area,” Frank said, staring at his screen. “Hang on… there.” He swallowed. “It’s a laid-in care and community center in Taylor.”</p><p>“Good.” Sarif opened the door. “Send the address to Athene. I’ll get a SWAT team there.”</p><p>“But… what…” Frank looked up again. “How big are the chances actually, after being stored in two different morgues and having been ferried around in a bodybag?”</p><p>“Not that big, I admit,” Sarif said with a shake of his head. “But as long as we haven’t found him to check, there’s hope.”</p><p>And with that he was gone, leaving Frank to stare at his screen. His head was still spinning, and his temples throbbed with a vicious sting on every heartbeat.</p><p>A soft knock on his door made him look up. It was Christina, unsurprisingly, because no one else knocked like that. She entered the lab with a large paper cup that she put down on Frank’s desk.</p><p>“I figured you might need a coffee.”</p><p>“I desperately need coffee,” Frank said and took the cup. </p><p>“So… what happened?”</p><p>Frank took a sip of the almost-too-hot coffee with a soft hiss and sighed. He hardly got to finish his explanation though before his infolink crackled.</p><p><i>“Frank.”</i> Sarif. <i>“Get ready to be in the air asap. Faridah and a few of our security guys are standing by waiting for you.”</i></p><p>“...what?”</p><p><i>“Frank, we need you there.”</i> Sarif’s voice was insistent. <i>“Dr Marcovic is in the operating room, I can’t get her there on short notice, and you’re the only other person with the know-how we need. You need to jump start the Sentinel, and the neural coordinators. If we want to get him back, if it’s still possible, then any minute counts. I’ll have a rescue helicopter on your heels.”</i></p><p>“But…” Frank got up, feeling as if someone had pulled the ground out from under his feet. “I’m not…”</p><p>
  <i>“You’re not a soldier, I know. That’s why I’m sending some of our guys along. They’ll watch your back. And now get going, Frank! As I said, time is of essence!”</i>
</p><p>Frank managed to unfreeze, and he grabbed his backpack and shoved all the tools inside he thought he might need. Another hasty sip of coffee, and he was out of his office and on his way to the helipad in almost a run.</p><p>Five security guys were already in the chopper, and Malik was holding an e-book that she handed him.</p><p>“Some sort of blueprint or whatever,” she said as she opened the cockpit. “Sarif said you’d need it to configure your instruments.”</p><p>Frank took the e-book and boarded the VTOL. He immediately scrolled through the blueprints and scanned the data for the relevant information. Yes, this augment had not even been hinted at in the other, official blueprints. His hands were shaking so bad however he hardly managed to calibrate his tools properly.</p><p>“Afraid?” one of the security guards asked him, and Frank gritted his teeth and looked up.</p><p>“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m cybersecurity, not a marine.”</p><p>“Yeah,” the man replied, and Frank tried to get a glimpse of his name tag. McInnis. “That’s why we have to watch your ass.” And under his breath, he added, “...princess.”</p><p>Anger had always been a good motivator for Frank Pritchard, and an excellent help in focusing. Anger was welling up now, aided by the fact he was running on so much adrenaline he could almost taste it, so he took his phone, and unlocked it.</p><p>“What the…? FUCK!” McInnis stared at his own beeping phone. </p><p>“What?” the guy next to him asked.</p><p>“My phone is going haywire! And there’s…” He broke off, and gave Frank a death glare. “Pritchard, I swear if that was you…”</p><p>“Of course that was me,” Frank said with as much venom as he could muster, which was a lot. He’d been through enough those last few days, and he didn’t need a testosterone-poisoned grunt trying to shit in his shoe on top of everything else. “I used my phone to hack yours, and I just sent a random dick pic to every female in your contact list. That took me five minutes.”</p><p>“You fucking asshole!”</p><p>“Give me a laptop and an internet connection, and I will fuck you up,” Frank said, narrowing his eyes while looking at McInnis without a flinch. “I will fuck up your bank account, I will fuck up your police record, and I will fuck up your social media. And even if you could ever prove that it was me, some of the damage will stick to you like chewing gum to hair.”</p><p>“You fucking-”</p><p>“Go ahead.” Frank crossed his arms, then stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles too. “Make my day. Call me princess again.”</p><p>McInnis looked like he was ready to punch him, but the guy next to him grabbed his arm. He fell back into his seat with a growl, glaring daggers at Frank, but he kept his mouth shut.</p><p>You really didn’t need to be a bulk of muscle to fuck someone up. It was a lesson Frank had learned very early in his life, when schoolyard bullies had still been an issue.</p><p>He focused back on his tools, deliberating what he would need.</p><p>“What are those doohickeys even?” the guy next to him asked.</p><p>Haas, if he remembered correctly. Jensen had gotten him a job here, or so he heard. His security force seemed to be some sort of dumbass magnet.</p><p>“These… doohickeys… are highly specialised and sensitive tools.” He was feeling a little vindictive. “This is the Bioret, the bionic retinoscope, and this is the CCF, which, as you probably don’t know, stands for circuit cutane forceps. But since they can reactivate the ocular implants and the limbs in the clinic I won’t need those, so I’m only calibrating the Crintel.”</p><p>Haas blinked at him. “Crin...tel?”</p><p>“Cranium interface electroinducer.” Frank looked at the display of said tool. “To jumpstart the neural coordinators and the Aurora processor.”</p><p>“...ah.” Haas looked straight ahead again.</p><p>“What a load of techno babble,” McInnis muttered.</p><p>Frank picked up his phone and waved it at him, and the man crossed his arms and kept on glaring straight ahead.</p><p>He didn’t have time to enjoy his small, petty victory however, as they had reached the landing zone that very moment. A SWAT team was just arriving too, and with Frank and the SI security men in the rear, they advanced on the building.</p><p>Frank had a moment to wonder what the hefty whispered discussion was about as they were about to enter, but then one of the SWAT guys jogged over and gestured at Frank to follow him.</p><p>“There's a lock on the door,” the SWAT guy muttered. “Can you get us in without setting off a possible alarm? We could kick down the door, but…” He shrugged “Figured we might as well use you while you’re at hand.”</p><p>“Clever.” Frank ignored the poisonous look and approached the door to have a look at the keypad. Even a security level five wasn’t a challenge for him, but by the looks on the faces of the men surrounding him he might as well have just pulled a rabbit out of his nose. He fell back into his position at the rear, and let the muscle do their job.</p><p>Thanks to the GPL, the whole mission was laughably easy. The body snatchers had no idea what was coming, their security was ridiculous, and they offered no resistance.</p><p>“Pritchard!” someone yelled further down the corridor. “Your turn!”</p><p>Frank shrugged his backpack into place, but when he entered the room in question he almost passed out. The stench of rot and decay and old blood was so overwhelming he couldn’t suppress a heave. The four bodies that had been stolen last night had not been the first ones, and the remains of others that were still attached to scavenged augmentations had already reached advanced stages of putrefaction.</p><p>“Over here!”</p><p>He could avoid looking at the surroundings, but he couldn’t entirely avoid breathing, and fighting with his nausea Frank reached the back of the room and the tables with the fresher corpses, Jensen’s among them.</p><p>And miraculously, they hadn’t started by butchering him like some of the other corpses, because he couldn’t have been able to come back from that. Despite that, it was still an abysmal sight. At least they had had the decency to cover the crotch of the naked body with a piece of fabric, but the rest…</p><p>The body as such was undamaged, but they had completely taken apart the arms. One of them, the left one, had been all but torn out, and was lying on a smaller table next to him with wires hanging out, and bits of bloody tissue still clinging to the skin anchors. The right one had been removed a little more carefully, but that, too, was ruined and torn completely apart.</p><p>Maybe the body snatchers had realised that these prosthetics were so special and personalised that they couldn’t be harvested, and had instead taken them apart to see what could be scavenged as spare parts. But with the little technical skill and knowledge they obviously had, they had done more damage than anything else. The nanoblades were lying on another table, clean and carefully straightened out, but absolutely useless in anything else but Jensen’s own, highly specialised arms.</p><p>He was wasting precious time. Frank dropped his pack and dug into it for the tools he needed, and approached the body with apprehension so hard it was close to fear. What if he was too late?</p><p>What would that change? Jensen had been dead to him before this. Another dash of hope being shattered shouldn’t make much of a difference.</p><p>Shouldn’t. Maybe. But it did.</p><p>
  <i>“Of course, this might sting…”</i>
</p><p>This was going to do a lot more than sting, or would, if Jensen was conscious. And should he regain consciousness it would hurt even more. It would do a lot more than sting, it would fucking suck, it would suck a whole bag of dicks, it would…</p><p>He was panicking. He wished for a moment someone would slap him so he could snap out of it, but as usual, Frank was on his own.</p><p>
  <i>Focus, Pritchard. Fucking focus, you bloody idiot.</i>
</p><p>The body twitched as Frank touched the electrodes in the Crintel to the skin on Jensen’s neck. But nothing else happened. With a sinking feeling and a heavy sense of dread, Frank tried again. And again, the same reaction.</p><p>Deciding he had nothing to lose, Frank then took a more crude approach and initialised the reboot simultaneously on the Sentinel and the neural processors, cranking up the output of the electrodes to maximum.</p><p>The body jerked, and shivered, and then Jensen’s head fell to one side.</p><p>Frank’s heart jumped into his throat.</p><p>Jensen twitched again, and his head fell to the other side, and he took a sudden, horribly stertorous breath. And another. A groan escaped him, and after a third laborious breath the sound that came out was a moan. He tossed his head back and forth, and his painful moan turned into a thin wail of utter agony.</p><p>Frank had slowly backed away from the table as Jensen had started to move, but now he dropped his tools and left the room in a run.</p><p>“Medics!” he yelled down the corridor. “Where are the fucking medics! MEDICS!”</p><p>They had been on stand-by, thankfully, because only moments later three of them came running, a gurney between them.</p><p>Occupied with trying to stay on his feet Frank stumbled out of the way, and when he saw a door marked with EXIT he grabbed the handle without thinking. If he didn’t get away from this stench this very moment he would start vomiting hard enough to have his guts hanging out of his throat.</p><p>The door led out to an overgrown yard that might once have been a playground, to judge by a couple of rusty swings a few feet away. Blessed air surrounded him, and Frank swallowed it in greedy gulps.</p><p>He heard the beep too late, and his world whited out in a bright, blinding flash of pain that made him yelp. He lost his balance and stumbled back, and at the edge of his awareness he could hear someone yell something about why nobody had been checking for mines in the high grass.</p><p>He barely registered another beeping, right behind him, but he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from falling over anyway. Acrid smoke burned in his lungs, and he didn’t even have the time to cough before everything went black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here, have a little breathing space.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A high, persistent, incredibly annoying rhythmic beeping reached Frank’s muddled brain, but he found he couldn’t open his eyes more than a crack.</p><p>His first thought was that he was back at the hospital, that he must have fallen asleep at Jensen’s bedside, and that the whole dead and gone and body stealing thing had all been a dream.</p><p>Then a little more awareness returned to him, and he realised, when he was able to pry his eyes open, that he was indeed in a hospital. But it was him in the bed, and it was him connected to a heart monitor.</p><p>No dream then.</p><p>Definitely no dream, he realised then as he tried to take a deeper breath. His lungs ached and his throat burned, and he had to cough, which of course made the pain only worse. He needed to breathe but something was stuck to his face, and he wanted to tear that off to get more air. But as he reached for it, he heard a low, husky voice next to him.</p><p>“That’s an oxygen mask, you should leave that in place.”</p><p>Frank knew that voice. He knew that voice, and it wasn’t so long ago that he thought he’d never hear that voice again. That he’d never get a chance to talk to the owner of that voice again. He slowly turned his head, and blinked a few times to try and clear his vision.</p><p>It was Jensen alright, but he wasn’t in his usual combat gear and trademark leather coat. Instead he was wearing a loose tank top, under it the bandages wrapped around his upper body visible in stark, shining white. They wrapped around the whole left shoulder, an armless shoulder, as he now noticed. There was a right arm, but it was an unrefined, run-of-the-mill thing, the most basic of temporary prosthetics. It was crude and ugly, but better than having to rely on help for things like eating or wiping your ass.</p><p>And Jensen was watching him now, his face pale, drawn, and tired, his eyes not hidden behind his shades, and he was alive. Alive, and breathing, and he was here, alive, alive, alive…</p><p>“Hey,” Jensen muttered softly.</p><p>“You asshole,” Frank blurted out. It wasn’t what he had thought he would say – although he had no idea what he would have planned to say if he’d had the time.</p><p>“Nice to see you too, Francis.”</p><p>“Get the fuck out of my sight,” Frank snapped, because he realised at that moment that he couldn’t stand looking at Jensen for another moment although he had no idea why. “Get out of my face!”</p><p>It was too much and he was coughing again, groaning in pain but unable to stop.</p><p>“Get! Out!”</p><p>Jensen shot out of his chair, but the screeching of the heart monitor had already alerted a nurse who came hurrying into the room. She did something to the IV stand next to his bed, and moments later Frank felt his body grow warm and heavy and fuzzy. The air in his mask became cooler too and breathing got a little easier.</p><p>“Careful, Mr Pritchard.” The young nurse’s voice was gentle. “You had an unusual and very heavy adverse reaction to the CS gas in the mine you accidentally triggered. We almost lost you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Frank closed his eyes. That explained why he was feeling so rotten. He was still wheezing a bit, despite the oxygen mask and being sedated. “My throat hurts.”</p><p>“That would mainly be aftereffects of the intubation,” the nurse explained. “It’ll be gone sooner than you think.”</p><p>He should sleep a little more. He definitely could use some more sleep, with all the all-nighters he had pulled during the last week. A nap would do him a world of good. He could continue being angry at Jensen afterwards.</p>
<hr/><p>The next time Frank woke up was in the middle of the night. The room was dark and silent around him, apart from the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and Frank lay there for a moment listening to his own, still slightly wheezing breaths. His throat was so dry he could hardly swallow, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and felt like a piece of old carpet.</p><p>His arms were a little weak, but he did manage, slowly and carefully, to sit up in the bed. He wasn’t even half as much out of breath as he had feared when that was accomplished, and the pain in his throat was worlds better as well. There was a table next to his bed, but it was empty safe for a kidney basin made of cardboard and a few paper towels. He would have to page a nurse if he wanted something to drink.</p><p>He carefully removed the oxygen mask while he waited, and realised with dismay how his hair felt to the touch. It was matted and greasy, and his fingers smelled musty after touching it. So he had not been out for just a couple of days or so. This was hair that hadn’t been washed for at least a week.</p><p>The nurse on night shift was a kind, older woman with the aura of a grandmother. A very kind grandmother. She made Frank feel as if he was five years old which was annoying as fuck, but he was too beat to complain.</p><p>His hands were still a little weak so she helped him drink, sorted out his pillow before helping him lie down, and told him that first thing in the morning, the urinary catheter could be removed and he would be able to take a bath.</p><p>Yeah, thanks, Frank had been trying very hard <em>not</em> to think about why he didn’t have to piss yet.</p><p>He didn’t have the energy to worry about that, however. He was still exhausted, and he fell asleep moments after the nurse had closed the door behind her.</p>
<hr/><p>After the most humiliating procedure Frank had ever been through in his life after his time in jail, Frank was finally allowed to take that shower he had been looking forward to. At least now the worst was over, and he did allow himself to wonder why he had a single room with an en-suite to himself. Courtesy of Sarif, probably.</p><p>Who, as it turned out, was waiting for him when Frank emerged from the bathroom, still toweling his hair.</p><p>“Frank!” Sarif turned around with a bright smile, genuinely pleased at seeing him. “It’s good to see you back on your feet! You had us really worried, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah… a nurse told me the CS gas messed me up.” He lowered the towel. “Do I have to thank you for this room here?”</p><p>“No, you don’t.” Sarif shook his head. “If anything, I’m the one who should be thanking you.”</p><p>“We’ve been over that,” Frank said and hung the towel over the back of a chair, and tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. There had been a small gym bag he did not recognise packed with clothes that he definitely recognised because they were his own, but he hadn’t had the energy to wonder about that either. “I was just doing my job.”</p><p>“Maybe.” Sarif crossed his arms. “But you did what no one else did, what no one else thought of doing, and what no one else would have been able to do. Without you-”</p><p>“Without my biochip fix we’d all be toast now, yes.” Frank combed his fingers through his still moist hair. It was a mess of knots and tangles, and he frowned. “Me included. Don’t paint me a hero, boss.”</p><p>“Well, suit yourself,” Sarif replied, still smiling. “But let me warn you: there is a choice group of employees who are planning on throwing you a party and making you employee of the month for the rest of the year.”</p><p>“Oh for…” Frank rolled his eyes and dug into the gym bag in search of his hair brush. “Please.”</p><p>Sarif just shrugged, and Frank continued his search for the brush. He eventually found it in a side compartment, packed into a small plastic bag with several spare hair ties, next to his toothbrush and toothpaste in another small plastic bag, his shaving gear in a third. Socks and underwear were neatly rolled up on one side of the bag, T-shirts and a sweater neatly folded on the other.</p><p>He began to suspect who had packed that bag. Which left the question of course how Christina had gotten into his apartment, but that wasn’t really a big deal. He didn’t have anything to hide, and after his stint in prison he hadn’t lived anymore like a cliche IT bachelor nerd surrounded by dirty laundry and empty take-out containers. He was worth more than that.</p><p>Sarif was still mustering him when Frank started untangling and brushing his hair. Eventually he broke the silence again, and his voice was very uncharacteristically low.</p><p>“Frank, I really mean it, I need to…” Sarif rubbed the fingers of his left hand across his forehead. “I know, you said you don’t want a reward, but I can’t just stand here knowing I’m alive because of you and do nothing.”</p><p>Frank sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking for any more knots. “Give me a pay rise if you feel like you have to,” he said. “But if you really want to throw your money around, go and buy Jensen a new pair of arms.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to let him walk around in the state he’s in now,” Sarif replied sternly.</p><p>“I didn’t think you would.” Frank combed his hair back with his fingers into a ponytail. “Different arms. He once told me he'd never used the blades, and was never going to. He also complained about not being able to feel much. So… you know. Give him arms without murder weapons and with full tactile sensation instead.”</p><p>Sarif leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms, a bemused little smile on his face. “I thought you hated his guts, Frank.”</p><p>“I…” Frank huffed out an angry sigh. “I don’t.”</p><p>“You threw him out of your room.” Sarif tilted his head. “He’s been fretting at your bedside for days, you know.”</p><p>“He what?”</p><p>“You heard me.” Sarif shrugged. “So if you don’t hate his guts, why did you give yourself half an apoplexy throwing him out?”</p><p>“I just…” Frank threw up his hands. “I just can’t stand to look at him right now. The stunt he pulled? Making me responsible for his life? Forcing me to make that decision? Without asking?”</p><p>Frank had a lot of conflicting feelings about Jensen right now. Of course he was glad Jensen was alive. He was relieved beyond words to express it, but looking at him would mean living through the horrible emotional wringer he’d been put through, which might lead to Frank doing something really embarrassing like burst into tears or… he didn’t want to think about this any further. If he kept Jensen away from him, he could safely put himself together properly.</p><p>“Who does he think he is?” he added for good measure, crossing his arms.</p><p>“You have to ask him that yourself,” Sarif replied. “And by the way, no one forced you to do anything. There is no law stating that you, as next of kin, have to make any decision at all. You can go and let the doctors make the choices themselves.”</p><p>“But the choice they would have made was…” Frank rubbed his hands down his face. “They would have turned him into a nursing case! I couldn’t let that happen!”</p><p>“Maybe you couldn’t, but there was no one who told you you’d have to. All Adam did was ask you to stand in for him in case he was incapacitated.”</p><p>“He did not ask me!”</p><p>“You know what I mean, Frank. Neither Adam nor anyone else could have forced you to take up that role. That you did it is entirely on you. Don’t blame Adam for it. At least not before you talk to him.”</p><p>“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” Frank narrowed his eyes at him. “Can I ask why it seems so important to you that we get along? We aren’t boyfriends, contrary to popular belief.”</p><p>“You’re a good team, though.” Sarif pushed himself off the windowsill. “I know anything else isn’t my business, but Adam was gutted after you threw him out. Now, I am not telling you that you should apologise. I’m not ordering you into a get-along sweater. And I’m saying this not as your boss but as someone who cares about you both: You should clear the air between the two of you, for both your sake.”</p><p>With that, he walked past Frank towards the door.</p><p>“Oh and Frank,” he said then as he reached the door, and turned around again with a small smile, “you’re on sick leave for the next three weeks, and I don’t want to see a hair of you within the vicinity of the building during that time. We have a few capable people in IT support besides you. Rest, recover, and spoil yourself. If you want to go somewhere, call Athene and she will book you tickets. Movie, spa, a trip to Paris, what have you. I’ll see you in three weeks.”</p><p>Frank stared at the door for a long moment after Sarif had closed it behind him. That was a tempting offer, alright. He’d always fancied a trip to Europe.</p><p>But first he had to get out of the hospital, and since he was feeling his old self again, that should be soon. He could take much deeper breaths, and the ache in his throat was faint and negligible by now. Or maybe second, because first he had to finish his personal grooming routine. He took his shaving gear and headed back to the en-suite, ignored the bags under his eyes as he shaved, and tried not to think of what Sarif had said about Jensen. Feeling almost completely human again after he was done, all he needed now was a proper coffee.</p><p>He left his room for the first time now, and looked around the ward for a nurse. He found the one who had adjusted the sedatives after he had thrown Jensen out of his room, and he approached her cautiously in case she had something important to do.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Mr Pritchard!” She smiled brightly at him. “Good to see you on your feet! How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Good, actually. Although I would feel a lot better if I could get my hands on some coffee. Can I leave the ward to get one in the cafeteria?”</p><p>“You can,” she replied, but then she leaned a little closer. “Or you could wait here for a moment,” she continued with a conspiratorial wink before she vanished into the nurse’s station.</p><p>She emerged moments later with a large, white mug that she handed to him with another wink. “Nurses’ coffee,” she said. “Not that dishwater we serve to the patients.”</p><p>“Bless you,” Frank said as he looked at the Kapoor-black liquid covered with an oily sheen, and he could feel the lining of his stomach recoil in horror. It was exactly what he needed right now.</p><p>Equipped with the steaming mug he headed back to his room, and sipped the coffee as he stared out of the window. He turned around when someone knocked, and the young nurse entered with a white, sealed plastic bag and a clipboard.</p><p>“Your personal things,” she said and handed him the bag. “You need to sign the receipt here.”</p><p>Frank put the mug down onto the windowsill and took the bag. There was his phone, his leather bracelet, his wallet, and a hair tie. And he tried very hard not to think about the most unpleasant deja-vu he was having right now.</p><p>The nurse didn’t know that, of course. “Is something missing?”</p><p>“Hm? Oh… no. It’s fine.” He checked the wallet, but the cards and the credit chips were all there.</p><p>“If you need to borrow a charger, just come to the nurse’s station,” she said as she headed for the door. “We have a few spares.”</p><p>Frank nodded, but headed for the gym bag first. There was another, smaller compartment on the outside, and he opened the zipper. Nope, Christina did not disappoint. There was his phone charger, and even the book from his nightstand.</p><p>Frank looked up again. “Any idea when I can get out of here?”</p><p>“You’re scheduled for another check-up this afternoon,” the nurse replied. “I see no reason to keep you here any longer than another night for observation, but that’s up to the doctors of course.”</p><p>“Great.”</p><p>The nurse left, and Frank plugged his phone into the charger. He had a few missed calls and two messages, one from Athene wishing him a speedy recovery, and the latest one from Christina.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>Call me when you need a lift home</em></p>
</blockquote><p>Of course. Frank couldn’t help but smile. That woman clearly had adopted him. And while the sheer thought would have had him recoil and scoff not so long ago, he found it strangely comforting now. He would have liked to know what had mellowed him like this, but maybe he was just getting old.</p><p>Or maybe he was just tired, the kind of tiredness that no amount of sleep could cure. The last weeks had been hell, and without her help he might not have been able to stop himself from falling over the edge. He had been teetering on the brink of a breakdown, he knew that much, looking back now. It had been a close shave.</p><p>Frank Pritchard didn’t have a lot of friends. Not in meatspace, at least. He did have online friends, through games and forums, but none of those would have been able to help him through this in any way. He wondered, though, if he could really call her a friend. She was probably doing this out of gratitude anyway, and would soon enough discover he wasn’t worth her time. But it had been a relief to have had someone to fall back on when things had gone tits-up.</p><p>He sat down on the bed and took his phone again to text her back.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>thanks, the way it looks i’ll be out of here again tomorrow</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>She replied almost instantly.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>Great! Call me, I am on stand-by! :)</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>thanks for the bag, btw. not to sound ungrateful but how did you get into my apartment?</em>
  </p>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>I pestered the janitor until he was annoyed enough to let me in. I guess you need a new code now.</em></p>
</blockquote><p>He frowned at his phone.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>you didn’t leave the door unlocked did you</em>
  </p>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>Of course not. He just reset the code to ****</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>what</em>
  </p>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>Not going to send codes via mail or text! I learned that in the cybersecurity course! XD</em></p>
</blockquote><p>Frank facepalmed with a huff of amusement.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>you deserve a medal</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em><strong>C</strong> That makes two of us! Call me when you know more!</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>will do thx</em>
  </p>
  <p><strong>C</strong> <em>Gotta drive now, school run time. Take care!</em></p>
</blockquote><p>Frank didn’t have to wait too long for the check-up, and was proclaimed recovered enough to be discharged after one more night of observation.</p><p>And after that, three weeks of nothing whatsoever. On one hand, he was looking forward to doing whatever he wanted, sleeping whenever he felt like. On the other, he did not want to think about how his inbox would look like after those three weeks.</p><p><em>One thing at a time</em>, Pritchard. Frank sank down into the bed and crossed his arms behind his head. <em>One thing at a time.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Frank is still trying to be the usual Frank - but Christina won't let him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank handed the empty gym bag to Christina after having poured the contents onto his bed. He had felt uncomfortable the whole drive home, unable to partake in any conversation, and while she had let him keep his silence he could tell she had been worried. As if that was any of her business.</p><p>The point was, he really didn’t need anyone to mother him. He knew she meant well, and was grateful for her help, but having her hover around him this close was starting to bother him.</p><p>“Do you need anything else?” she asked as she took the bag.</p><p>“No, thank you, I can manage,” he said tersely. “I’m not an invalid.” He needed his personal space back, and now.</p><p>Christina looked at him and slowly tilted her head. “Okay,” she said, in a tone that was both flat and confused.</p><p>“Look.” Frank crossed his arms. “Thank you for your help. But I don’t need someone to mother me and watch over my every move. I can do that myself.”</p><p>“Jesus, Frank.” She took a step back and frowned. “What is wrong with you suddenly?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Frank took a small step back. He should probably try to be a little more polite, she had been helpful, after all. But the way she looked at him was already grating on his nerves. “I just don’t need your help with everything.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to make you a four-course dinner,” she said, her face darkening. “You don’t have to jump down my throat like that.”</p><p>“Good, because you might not be aware that skipping a meal every now and then doesn’t kill anyone.” That should do the trick. He ignored the inner voice telling him he should not be doing this.</p><p>Her eyes widened and she gasped. He had hit right home, and he felt both victorious and disgusted by himself. And the latter was… unexpected, and very unwelcome. Frank suddenly wished he hadn’t started that conversation, but there was no backing off now. She looked at him, a boring glare that made him grit his teeth. He was about to snap at her, just to have her stop looking at him like that, but she forestalled him.</p><p>“Why are you doing this?”</p><p>“Doing what?”</p><p>“This. Act like the asshole Pritchard I have only heard about but never met.”</p><p>“Welcome to the real world,” Frank replied acridly. Hadn’t she gotten the hint already? He needed to be alone.</p><p>She huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Please. So the being friendly with me was just an act in case you need someone to drag your ass out of trouble?” Her German accent thickened. “Or is this the act, the asshole Pritchard, to keep people who are being friendly away because having friends makes you vulnerable?”</p><p>“What are you, a shrink?” Frank snapped back. That inner voice deep inside kept nagging at him that he really shouldn’t be doing this, and it made the feeling even worse.</p><p>“No, I’m not. I’m just good at reading people.” She exhaled forcefully through her nose. “I also studied a few semesters of social science so I know how to put shit into words but that is not the point.”</p><p>“So what-”</p><p>“And I can tell you this, Frank Pritchard: The moody teenager spiel doesn’t suit you.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Frank stared her, incredulous and angry. “The what?”</p><p>“Please. I have one of those at home. I recognise the signs of someone playing tough.”</p><p>“And why would I…” he half-shrugged, “...play tough?”</p><p>“As I said. Letting people close is risk getting hurt. But that’s your business, not mine, apparently. I’m not telling you that you need friends. This isn’t My Little Pony. But if you don’t want anything to do with me any more, say it to my face.” She took a step closer. “Say it to my face, Frank. Tell me to fuck off and leave you alone, and I will, but stop throwing underhanded insults at me.”</p><p>Yes, he wanted her to fuck off. Because he didn’t need someone to mother him. He didn’t need someone to watch over him. He could manage his own life.</p><p>Yeah, and that had worked out <em>so</em> well these last few weeks.</p><p>And there it was again, that abyss he had been staring into lately. He thought he had reached a safe distance by now but here it was, and he needed her to back off already because this was his own fight and he couldn’t not fight it while she was around – but he suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say any more.</p><p>Frank buried his face in his palms. He was tired. He was tired after the hell of the past weeks, he was tired of himself for being such a sorry fuck-up who could barely keep himself from bawling all the time and who had lost control of pretty much everything. He was tired of being alone and on his own, he was tired, so tired of fucking everything.</p><p>And there was the thing: he didn’t want her to fuck off. He had forgotten how it felt to have someone who cared, but now the closest thing to friendship he had had in years was shattered before it had even begun for real, with only himself to blame. And he didn't know how to fix it. And if it was even worth it. Because he would only fuck it up again.</p><p>It wasn’t worth it because he would only break it, good things happened to other people but not Frank Pritchard, he was a sarcastic and cynical asshole and would always be, he couldn’t even understand why he had allowed this to happen in the first place because-</p><p>“Frank.”</p><p>Frank dropped his hands and stared at her. His throat was raw and his vision was blurry and he realised with a sinking feeling of horror that he must have said all that out loud. His exhaustion had apparently shattered all his mental shields, and he had a moment to wonder if this was how a defenceless little bug might feel when you lift the rock it was hiding under.</p><p>“You need a drink.”</p><p>“I guess,” was all he could think of.</p><p>“Sit down. Where is your alcohol?”</p><p>“Kitchen.” Frank made his way yo the sofa and fell down so hard the poor piece of furniture actually groaned under him.</p><p>Christina sat down next to him a moment later, and handed him a glass with a golden-brown liquid.</p><p>“I see you found the Bourbon.” He took the glass and knocked it back. The whisky burned its way down his throat and he closed his eyes with a hiss.</p><p>“Sorry for not joining you, but I have to drive.”</p><p>Frank stared at the empty glass.</p><p>The silence stretched between them.</p><p>“Want another?” she eventually asked.</p><p>“Nah.” Frank put the glass down onto the table before him.</p><p>She still hadn’t moved. And he still couldn’t meet her eyes</p><p>“Why did you have to see me like this,” he muttered after another moment, because… the thought of someone seeing him like this was really, really terrible.</p><p>“I happened to be here at the wrong place and the wrong time.” She shrugged. “Or the right place and the right time, depending on your point of view.”</p><p>“And what would be good about this?”</p><p>“That you maybe are finally able to admit what you are doing.”</p><p>Frank had to unclench his jaw or he might have broken some teeth. “And what is that?”</p><p>“Do you want me to play the shrink again?” She leaned forward to look at him. “You are not the only person with trust issues in this world.”</p><p>“Please don’t.” Frank leaned back and crossed his arms.</p><p>“If it makes you feel better,” she went on, “I won’t tell anyone I saw you cry.”</p><p>“It does make me feel marginally less rotten.”</p><p>“Marginally?”</p><p>“Trust issues, remember?” He looked up at her with narrowed eyes.</p><p>She gave him a one-sided shrug. “I mean it, though. When I was thirteen, the first love letter I wrote a boy in my class ended up being handed around in half the school. I was already at the bottom of the pecking order, the fat girl with the glasses. That made it worse. Everyone laughed at me for weeks.”</p><p>“That’s just fucked up.” Frank straightened up again and finally looked at her. “Do you remember who it was? I can fuck up his bank account.”</p><p>“Tempting.” She huffed out a chuckle. “But it wouldn’t make a difference. My point is, I know how it feels when you’re exposed like that, and I won’t do that to anyone else.”</p><p>Frank was finally able to meet her eyes, but didn’t know what to say.</p><p>“Bullied kids unite?” she asked.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Been bullied in school for being the fat girl with glasses. I’m pretty sure you were bullied for being the scrawny nerd.”</p><p>Frank dropped his head with a mirthless little laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re as fucked up as I am. I don’t think that’s possible.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she replied simply. “Different. But this isn’t a competition, is it?”</p><p>He looked up again.</p><p>“The point is, your fucked-up-ness is safe with me.”</p><p>Then she held out an arm.</p><p>Frank looked at the arm, and at her face. She extended the arm a little more.</p><p>“I don’t hug,” Frank said, but he didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.</p><p>“Yes, because that totally was not a hug the other day in the stairwell. Must have been horrible for you to never do this again.”</p><p>Frank was gritting his teeth again.</p><p>“Pretend you are doing me a favour.”</p><p>“Fine,” he muttered, and slid closer. Another moment of hesitation because he really, really wasn’t comfortable, but then he dropped his head against her shoulder. He had to slump a little for that, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable after all, strangely enough.</p><p>Christina closed her arms around him. “Is this okay?”</p><p>“Hm...”</p><p>“Not too squishy?”</p><p>“Kind of comfortable,” he was able to admit. Maybe he was getting better at… all of this.</p><p>“Now you sound like my husband,” she said with a smile in her voice.</p><p>“I’m gay,” Frank muttered into her shoulder.</p><p>“And I’m married. So your virtue is in no danger from me.”</p><p>He snorted. “My virtue has been out of the window for more than a decade.”</p><p>Especially since his stint in prison. He tensed; he couldn’t stop himself. Maybe that was the deal breaker. Who wants to be friends with that?</p><p>“Hm?” She tightened her hold.</p><p>“I…” God, why was this suddenly so hard. “I was in prison, for a time.”</p><p>“Hacked into something you shouldn’t have?”</p><p>“Basically yes.” Frank pushed himself out of the hug. “That doesn’t bother you?”</p><p>“Should it?”</p><p>“I’m an ex-con.” Frank shrugged. “I would imagine it would bother most people.”</p><p>“I am not most people. Does it bother you I’m an ex-addict?”</p><p>He stared at her for a moment. “No,” he said then.</p><p>She took a deep breath. “Are we good?”</p><p>“I think.” Frank couldn’t look at her any more and folded his hands between his knees. He was not used to feeling ashamed of himself and it was hard to deal with that. “I’m… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay. Just... if you act like a moody teenager again, expect me to treat you like one.”</p><p>“You are not my mother.” He glared at her again.</p><p>“I don’t have to be your mother to treat you like a moody teenager when you behave like one.”</p><p>“Point taken.”</p><p>After a moment she took the empty glass. “Another?”</p><p>Frank shook his head. “Still no. I don’t want to get drunk.”</p><p>“Okay.” Then she got up, pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at it. “I have to go. I promised the kids pancakes for dinner.”</p><p>Frank got up as well. “I don’t want to keep you.”</p><p>“You’re not. Oh!” She snapped her fingers and headed into the kitchen. “Before I forget,” she said as she returned, “I promised to give you this.”</p><p>She handed him a sheet of white printer paper she had put on the fridge door.</p><p>“And this is?”</p><p>“My middle child made it for you. You’re their hero, you know? It’s because of you their Mama didn’t go mad with all the other people. They keep asking about you all the time.”</p><p>“They do?” Frank asked with a faint streak of panic running through him.</p><p>“As I said. I had to show them how you look, on the employee page of the Sarif Industries website. And then my boy drew you this.”</p><p>“And…” Frank looked hesitantly at the picture, and ogled the clumsy pencil drawing.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>“That is you, obviously,” she replied with unmasked amusement. “You are fighting a virus in cyberspace. By the way, that up there is a cyberspace ship, and that down there is a cyberspace fortress.”</p><p>Frank stared in mild horror at the vaguely human figure with what had to be a ponytail. “You don’t fight viruses with a handgun.”</p><p>“It’s a cyberspace gun,” Christina replied with a shit-eating little grin. “I’m pretty sure you are winning.”</p><p>“And…” Frank looked up at her. “What am I supposed…”</p><p>“To do with it?” She laughed softly. “I don’t care. I promised to give it to you, and my duty is done. You can laminate it and put it on your fridge door, or crumple it together and throw it as far away as you can. Your picture, your business.”</p><p>“Uh…” Frank gingerly put the picture down onto the kitchen worktop. “Tell him… tell him, thank you. But don’t encourage him to draw me anything else.”</p><p>“I’ll try.” She busied herself with her shoes for a moment, and patted his arm after straightening up again. “Take care, put your feet up, and don’t forget to drink water.”</p><p>“Yes, <em>Mom</em>,” Frank replied with as much sarcasm as he could muster.</p><p>Christina looked at him, and gave him the ‘I-got-my-eyes-on-you’ gesture.</p><p>Frank crossed his arms, she narrowed her eyes.</p><p>But suddenly the tension unravelled inside him, and he couldn’t suppress a sudden, lopsided smile. They looked at each other for another moment. And then they both had to laugh.</p><p>Frank hadn’t felt like this relieved in a long time. Maybe things would turn out okay after all.</p><p>“You should do that more often, it looks good on you,” she said with a wink. “Bye!”</p><p>Frank closed the door and exhaled all his air in a very long and heavy huff. He cast a last glance at the pencil drawing, shaking his head, and after a moment’s hesitation he headed straight to bed.</p><p>He did drink a glass of water before that, though.</p>
<hr/><p>Frank did have access to his work email from his home computer, of course. He had to force himself not to check it though, because he knew that if he would find any hacker or virus reports it would ruin his sleep for the rest of his leave, and he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from trying to deal with it remotely. He spent enough time stopping himself from imagining the horrors that would await him all the time already.</p><p>He made it for full four days after coming home before he logged in. He needed something to occupy his brain, or he would go mad with cabin fever. Besides, it kept his mind too busy to think about Jensen, and whatever worked, he would take it. Because he did not want to think about that asshole.</p><p>He was halfway through fixing the data recovery issues a virus had caused – the virus had been dealt with but the clean-up in the aftermath was lacking, to say the least – when he heard his infolink crackle. He dropped his head with a sigh of defeat.</p><p>
  <em>“Frank, it’s nine pm.”</em>
</p><p>“I know, boss.”</p><p>
  <em>“What are you doing in the system of the PR department?”</em>
</p><p>“May I ask how you know I’m in the system of the HR department when it’s nine pm?” Frank asked, unable and unwilling to keep the annoyance out of his voice.</p><p><em>“Because I’m working on the files of the HR department to see what I can restore for now from the paperwork,”</em> Sarif replied. <em>“And suddenly folders start popping up we had no more access to, and files in another one that were only garbled pieces of trash suddenly work again. There’s only one person who would a, work at this time and b, be able to restore them.”</em></p><p>“Caught me red-handed, boss, hm?” Frank stared at the screen and sighed. “Let me just finish this one folder set, and I’ll log off.”</p><p><em>“I understand you want to occupy yourself, Frank,” S</em>arif replied then calmly. <em>“You’re not a man who does well when he’s idle. But you’re on sick leave, and as much as I understand, don’t force me to lock you out of the system.”</em></p><p>Frank didn’t mention that he could easily let himself in again, because they both knew that perfectly well. That wasn’t the point.</p><p><em>“Good night, Frank,”</em> Sarif said pointedly, and the infolink crackled again.</p><p>Frank stared at the screen in the silence that followed, and sighed again. The folder set he was working on contained more than ten sub-directories, and shaking his head Frank logged off and shut his computer down.</p>
<hr/><p>A week and a half into sick leave Frank declared himself recovered enough for some other activity than stare at the walls and take recreational walks. His cabin fever was getting worse, and so he put on his leathers, and grabbed his helmet and the keys to his bike.</p><p>On his way to the parking garage he thought of the VR bike he was still constructing in his office. Sarif had very generously allowed him to make use of the tools and resources to build it in the Tech Lab instead of his home, and Frank always made sure he was off the clock when he tinkered with it. One of these days he really would have to get the software up and running and try it out. The helmet and the gloves were already set up, so all he needed was the bike itself.</p><p>But he also had the real thing, of course. So he got onto his bike, kicked the engine into life, and left Detroit for the first time in far too long.</p><p>Maybe not too long a trip for now. He made it around Lake Erie in a leisurely pace, but was entertaining the thought of using a few days of his leave to hit the I-80 and head for the West Coast. He hadn’t been in San Francisco for years. Although what he would do there, he had no idea.</p><p>Frank took a break in Cleveland, and was now staring across the lake into the direction of Detroit. Somehow he didn’t want to go back there, at least not yet. But he hadn’t made any plans as to where he might go or what else he might do, so after another moment of staring at the water he got back onto his bike and headed home.</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning he sat down with his third coffee and a map, and looked at the route to San Francisco while sipping his coffee. He could, of course, plan the journey, and then ask Athene to book the motels he fancied, and a few days in a nice hotel in San Francisco.</p><p>But where was the fun in that?</p><p>He’d just did it like he had back when: throw some stuff into a backpack, hop into the saddle, and start the engine. Sleep when you find a motel. Embrace the freedom of the road.</p><p>Sure, he wasn’t twenty any more. But he wasn’t old enough yet to yearn for a picket fence suburban paradise either, and he would never swap the bike for a SUV. Frank folded the map again and got up to make another coffee. Tomorrow he would pack a bag, and pretend he didn’t have a care in the world for at least a week before he had to go back to his apartment in gloomy Detroit, and his corporate office job.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Image courtesy of my 10 y/o son, who loves watching us play DeusEx. He was all for it when I asked if he wanted to draw a picture of Frank Pritchard fighting a virus in cyberspace, but I didn't tell him anything else, it came all from his imagination.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So, I guess this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. Now, sometimes, a story would be over at this point. However. Sometimes I just read a thing like that and... want more. A glimpse of more happiness. So, the story isn't over yet. We aren't done with this.  #LetJensardHaveNiceThings2020.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank had just finished the sandwich he had cobbled together for lunch when there was a knock on the door. He hastily emptied the almost cold remainder of his coffee and got up feeling slightly apprehensive, because – and strange how he knew that already – it wasn’t Christina, she didn’t knock like that.</p>
<p>In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised to look at a black leather coat when he opened the door. He shouldn’t have been taken off guard at all, shouldn’t have let himself go like this, only wearing sweatpants and T-shirts all the bloody time. At least he was also wearing a hoodie and he hastily zipped that up, hoping Jensen hadn’t seen anything. There was a reason why he was wearing turtlenecks all the time, after all.</p>
<p>“Jensen?”</p>
<p>“Pritchard.”</p>
<p>The stared at each other for a moment.</p>
<p>“What is it, Jensen?” Frank would have liked to be able to say he didn’t have time, but that wouldn’t work, of course.</p>
<p>“We need to talk.”</p>
<p>“Strange, I can’t think of anything we could possibly have to talk about.” Frank narrowed his eyes and wished he had pretended not to be at home. He should have gone to Paris. Or at least, he should have left yesterday for San Francisco. But here he was.</p>
<p>“I… I wanted to apologise. And thank you.”</p>
<p>“Apologise, and thank me.” Frank leaned into the doorway and crossed his arms.</p>
<p>“Christ, Pritchard, are you going to make me say that out here in the hallway?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Frank huffed out and stepped aside.</p>
<p>Jensen took a few steps into the apartment and stopped to turn around when Frank closed the door again.</p>
<p>“Apologise for what?” Frank crossed his arms again, though he could make a guess as to what this was about.</p>
<p>“For… you know.” Jensen sighed.</p>
<p>“For making me responsible for your life?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean for that to happen, Pritchard!”</p>
<p>“You didn’t?” Frank huffed out a bitter, mirthless chuckle. “Then why did you put my name on that paper?”</p>
<p>“I was hoping we would never need it!” Jensen crossed his arms again, eyes unreadable behind those shades. “But I knew I was…” He broke off, and dropped his head.</p>
<p>Frank leaned against the wall, pressing his lips together.</p>
<p>Then Jensen looked up at him again. “I was afraid,” he said simply, and Frank’s heart jumped.</p>
<p>“Afraid? Of what?” <em>Of what would the mighty Adam Jensen be afraid?</em> The thought crossed his mind, but he managed not to say it because… because Jensen looked absolutely miserable right now.</p>
<p>“Of… of what almost happened.” Jensen shook his head. “I always knew something might happen to me. And I knew that Sarif…” He sighed again and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment. “I couldn’t think of someone else, Pritchard, and I’m sorry that it shook you up like that.”</p>
<p>“And you thought that I, of all people, would be qualified... why?” Frank’s voice was harsh, and cold, and he huffed out another mirthless chuckle. “Because I hate your guts? Because it would be oh so easy for me? To let you die?”</p>
<p>“To let me go,” Jensen said softly.</p>
<p>Those words hit Frank like a punch.</p>
<p>“Look,” Jensen said, and looked at Frank again. “I thought of Faridah, but… I talked to her after I was discharged from the hospital. And I wasn’t surprised, I knew she would have allowed the doctors to do anything to save me. I can’t really blame her, though. And Sarif?” He shook his head. “Sarif would only have stuffed more augments into me, and some more, until there would have been nothing left. I wouldn’t put it past him to make a 3D molecular print of my brain to replace it. There... would have been nothing left.”</p>
<p>Frank had no idea what to say.</p>
<p>“But you…” Jensen took a deep breath. “Pritchard, I didn’t assume you hate my guts enough to just let me die. I was… I always felt that somewhere along the line we stopped loathing each other. I could always trust you, when I was out there. That’s why I chose you.”</p>
<p>“You could have asked, you know,” Frank snapped at him.</p>
<p>“You would have said no,” Jensen replied simply.</p>
<p>“Damn right I would have! And-”</p>
<p>“And I’m sorry that this… that this was so hard,” Jensen just went on as if Frank hadn’t said anything. “It was precisely because I believed you would not be… so emotionally affected that I thought you were the best choice. You know me well enough to know what I would want, and respect me enough to go through with it.”</p>
<p>Frank still had no idea what he could possibly say to that because… because Jensen was right, wasn’t he? It was exactly what had happened. He, too, had known that Malik would have followed the doctor’s choices, and that with Sarif, likely nothing would have been left of Jensen afterwards. Or too little to matter.</p>
<p>“So you understand why I did it?” Jensen asked, voice low and husky. “Because you made the only choice I wasn’t afraid of.”</p>
<p>Frank took a deep, deep breath, and exhaled it again in a long, hard sigh.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Pritchard. Malik told me how hard it was on you, And also…” Jensen swallowed hard, and Frank looked up at him again. “Sarif told me you said… you said you were… with me when I died.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t die now, did you?” Frank crossed his arms tighter across his chest.</p>
<p>“We both thought I would.”</p>
<p>“You weren’t thinking at all!” Frank almost yelled. “You were a lifeless lump in a hospital bed!”</p>
<p>“And you still held my hand,” Jensen gave back. “And I appreciate that. I really do.”</p>
<p>“Oh, anything else?” Frank spat at him. “Did she mention my manly tears? My broken voice? My-”</p>
<p>“Pritchard, for fuck’s sake.” Jensen shook his head. “It’s okay to feel anything other than angry and vindictive all the time.”</p>
<p>“Oh thank you!” Frank hissed. “I had no idea!”</p>
<p>“Frank, why do you have to be like that!” Jensen barked at him and ran his fingers through his hair.</p>
<p>They looked… different. Not as metallic, not as mechanical. Still black, but they looked a little more lifelike, and softer.</p>
<p>Jensen caught the look and lowered his hands. “Yeah, that was why I wanted to say thank you. I know I have you to thank for these.”</p>
<p>“As far as I know Sarif didn’t take the money for those out of my pay check.”</p>
<p>“You know what I mean, Pritchard,” Jensen said after an exasperated grunt. “You told him I never used the blades, and that I missed feeling anything with these hands. It was you who told him to buy me arms without blades but with full tactile sensation and… and…” Jensen broke off, and his shades finally retracted. The artificial eyes couldn’t redden or swell, but there were tears brimming in them, and his lashes were wet. His voice was trembling. “It’s the first time in longer than I can remember that I can feel something, Frank. Really feel something. And I have you to thank for it.”</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure even you could have thought of that yourself,” Frank gave back, trying to hide his discomfort and not being entirely successful.</p>
<p>“I’m not so sure of that,” Jensen replied slowly. “I had come to accept that I was turned into a killing machine, a soldier puppet, someone to do the hard dirty work and heavy lifting. And this morning when I… I took a walk, and there was this friendly little cat and I… I could feel it, Pritchard. I could really feel the fur between my fingers and I-”</p>
<p>“Yes, Jensen, I get it,” Frank snapped at him, and turned away to avoid looking at the sudden tears. “Please don’t have a crying fit here on my living room carpet.”</p>
<p>Jensen shook his head with a tearful, shaky smile. “And here I thought we were having another moment,” he said.</p>
<p>Frank scoffed and stepped into a kitchen, and tore off a piece of paper towel that he thrust out at Jensen in passing without looking at him. He made his way to the coffee table and grabbed his mug, and still didn't look at Jensen, who was blowing his nose, when he filled a few more beans into the coffee maker.</p>
<p>He didn’t even realise what he was doing when he stared at the second cup that had appeared next to his own.</p>
<p>“Another <em>moment</em>, Jensen?” he asked, to fill that horrible, uncomfortable silence. Although he knew perfectly well.</p>
<p>“Yeah, like the one in your office.” Jensen’s voice was so close behind him that Frank almost flinched. He had not heard him approach.</p>
<p>Frank spun around, and found himself far too close to Jensen to be comfortable. “Don’t tell me you want another hug.” He narrowed his eyes. “Because that was a fluke and I’m pretty sure I haven’t gotten any better at those.”</p>
<p>“I thought you don’t hug,” Jensen replied, voice still low.</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Frank tersely, although that was practically a lie, wasn’t it. “And I would appreciate it if you removed yourself out of my personal space.”</p>
<p>“And I thought we need to unpack that.”</p>
<p>“There is nothing to unpack, Jensen.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t me who said that.” Jensen leaned back a little and crossed his arms.</p>
<p>“If I remember correctly,” Frank said as sharply as he could, “I said that we don’t have the time, and by now it doesn’t matter anymore.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t?” Jensen’s voice was so low it was almost a hum.</p>
<p>“No,” Frank muttered, because Jensen was leaning closer again, and those mesmerising eyes were boring into his soul, and Frank wanted to escape that look, escape this situation, because if he would let this escalate any further then… things… might happen they would both regret. Although he could feel his defenses rapidly deteriorating. Again.</p>
<p>“So it doesn’t matter that we almost kissed in the Tech Lab?” Jensen’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.</p>
<p>“The key word,” Frank said weakly, his eyes drawn to Jensen’s lips before he forced himself to look at his eyes again which was hardly better, “is ‘almost’, Jensen.”</p>
<p>“And you don’t regret that?”</p>
<p>“Why would I?” Frank tried to put a little more conviction into his voice; he had given up on the venom by now but it still sounded pathetic.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Jensen replied softly. “I did. I thought of you a lot, when I couldn’t hear you anymore, and after. When they caught me on the ship I had stowed away in, and beat seven different kinds of crap out of me, I thought of you and how much I wanted to hear your voice to tell me it would be okay, that help is on the way. I think I must have called out for you at some point, because I remember one of the goons who was enjoying himself beating me into a bloody pulp saying ‘there is no Frank here, I’m afraid’, and… yeah.”</p>
<p>Frank’s throat was almost too dry to swallow.</p>
<p>“And when I was in Panchaea I… I was so worried, Francis. I was afraid, for you especially. I didn’t know if you were affected and… and I was afraid. I was so relieved when I heard your voice in the infolink.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I was lucky.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t luck, you’re a genius.” Jensen’s smile was faint, but true. “That biochip fix was nothing short of a miracle.”</p>
<p>“Nice of you to finally acknowledge my skills,” Frank muttered.</p>
<p>“I did, I always did,” Jensen replied softly. “You’re a cynical, sarcastic menace, but you’re also clever, and determined, and strong, and handsome and-”</p>
<p>“Jensen, what do you want?” Frank asked, his voice pitching far higher than he liked.</p>
<p>“I want to kiss you,” Jensen replied simply, as if that wasn’t the most earth-shattering thing he could have said.</p>
<p>As if Frank could even pretend those words didn’t get under his skin down to the bones.</p>
<p>He stared at Jensen’s lips. “That is... a very bad idea.”</p>
<p>“Why?” At least Jensen hadn’t moved closer again.</p>
<p>“We’re co-workers,” Frank pressed out. “And our lives are difficult enough as it is. I’d rather not put any drama on top of everything else. And one night stands between co-workers are never a good idea.”</p>
<p>“Who said anything… what kind of drama?”</p>
<p>“The one that will inevitably follow,” Frank said, regaining his composure and the strength of his voice. “You of all people know I am not the easiest person to be around, and-”</p>
<p>“And everyone gives up on you?” Jensen snorted. “That’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. Or do you think I’m just like any other guy who dumped you?”</p>
<p>“It’s not you I’m talking about!” Frank couldn’t step back any further because of the kitchen worktop. “It’s me, it’s always me! You know me, Jensen! Have you met me?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Jensen said mildly. “I’ve known you for over a year, Frank. I’ve been handling your charming personality long enough. And still, here I am.”</p>
<p>“I always knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Jensen,” Frank said faintly.</p>
<p>“Well, maybe you like them big and dumb, Pritchard.”</p>
<p>“Will you shut up!”</p>
<p>“Make me,” Jensen said, that feisty asshole.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to hack into your augments to make you hit yourself?” Frank noticed too late he sounded almost hysterical.</p>
<p>Jensen stared at him for another moment, then he dropped his head and sighed. “Look, Frank. I’ll back off if you want me to. That moment in your office was haunting me, but I seem to have read that wrong.” When he looked up again his shoulders fell, and he sighed again. “But you know what? I don’t care, maybe this makes things awkward for a while, but I can promise you I won’t ever talk about it again, and I’ll do my best never to think about it again either. I just… I needed to come here because… I would have regretted it a lot more if I hadn’t. I kept wondering if I should have ignored Sarif for a moment longer, back then. I was thinking about it when I was drowning and freezing to death. My last thoughts were of you. That’s why I’m here. I got nothing to lose.”</p>
<p>Frank had a lump the size of a brick in his throat. He could have lied, and said that he didn’t care, that he had not been haunted by that moment in his office, but he did, and he had, and despite his abysmal social skills he knew that pushing Jensen away now would hurt them both, more than they deserved.</p>
<p>But maybe… maybe this time it really would be different. Jensen was not like any other. Anything that had been more than casual fun with no strings attached had ended in disaster. But Jensen had known him and his attitude for a long time. It wasn’t as if he would be taken off guard about Frank’s sarcasm and cynicism. It wasn’t as if Jensen expected a rose garden and a picket fence paradise. Jensen knew him, and here he was.</p>
<p>But Frank didn’t know if he had the courage to reach out.</p>
<p>Neither did he know if he wouldn’t need even more courage to not reach out, to deny them a chance at… anything.</p>
<p>“Jensen…” His voice was hoarse. “Jensen, I…”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to hear you're sorry,” Jensen replied. “Just tell me to leave, and I’m on my way.”</p>
<p>The deja-vu was strong enough to feel like the universe was laughing at him.</p>
<p>But maybe Frank had learned a lesson that day. And maybe he was even able to do something about it.</p>
<p>“And what if…” God, Frank really did sound pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. “What if I don’t… want you to go?”</p>
<p>They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, the air charged and heavy between them. And then Jensen reached out, slowly and hesitantly, as if Frank was a shy, wild animal he didn't want to spook.</p>
<p>The first touch of his fingers on Frank’s cheek felt strange; not like flesh and skin, but not as cold and metallic as he remembered, from the hospital. These fingers were softer, the surface a faintly textile-like polymer that almost felt like skin. Those fingers moved then, from his cheek to his jaw, and to the back of his neck, and Frank couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.</p>
<p>He felt Jensen… Adam… step closer, and felt warm breath on his cheeks and then, a touch on his lips, shy, fearful, hardly there.</p>
<p>Like a question.<em> Do you really want this?</em></p>
<p>But Frank knew the answer to that. He reached out as well, rested a hand on Adam’s shoulder, and moved it up, across his cheek, through his hair, and rested it on the back of his head. Took the leap of faith he had sworn he would never make again. <em>Yes, I want it.</em></p>
<p>Adam’s other arm came around Frank’s hips now and pulled him close, and they were kissing now, more firmly but still hesitant, or maybe more incredulous. Because Frank certainly could hardly believe that this was happening.</p>
<p>That he found himself in the embrace of strong arms, touched by cool polymer fingers, kissed by lips surrounded by the gentlest scratch of a beard he had ever felt. Soft hair parting between his fingers, the smell of an earthy, spicy cologne in his nose, a low, husky voice in his ear as their lips parted.</p>
<p>“I’ve wanted this for so long, Frank.”</p>
<p>“Then why did you stop,” Frank whispered back, and he could feel the smile on Adam’s lips when he kissed him again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Check the end notes for another art link! PLEASE! You won't regret it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank had no idea how long they had been kissing, but by now a little tongue was involved, and Jensen’s hands had tightened on his hips. Also, Frank was embarrassingly, desperately hard right now, just from kissing. It really had been too long. And he had always found Jensen… Adam, this would probably take a while…</p>
<p>His thoughts derailed when Adam broke the kiss to trail his lips down the side of Frank’s neck. </p>
<p>He definitely had always wanted to climb the man like a tree, and he finally got the chance now. He was allowed to touch, not only to look, and he let his hands wander down Adam’s back and over his buttocks. </p>
<p>Adam tensed, and broke the kiss. And before Frank could do or say anything, he had taken a step back. </p>
<p>“What… is wrong?” Frank asked, slightly out of breath. </p>
<p>Adam stared at him, and it looked as if he was forcefully keeping himself from putting up his shades. “Maybe… maybe you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”</p>
<p>Frank pushed him away, coldness curdling in his stomach. “What the fuck, Jensen?”</p>
<p>“Frank, I…” Jensen looked away. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Frank curled his hands into fists and sighed. He should have known. “You come here, cry into a piece of paper towel, tell me you want to kiss me, stick your tongue down my throat, and then tell me this was a mistake? If you’re having second thoughts, at least tell me why.”</p>
<p>Jensen didn’t look up. </p>
<p>“Come on, Jensen, spit it out!”</p>
<p>“I…” Now Jensen shook his head. “It’s… it’s not you. It’s-”</p>
<p>“Spare me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ crap, Jensen.” Frank crossed his arms and gritted his teeth for a moment. “That’s bullshit.”</p>
<p>“Not ten minutes ago you gave me the same bullshit, Pritchard,” Jensen snapped, his shoulders tight. “Remember?”  </p>
<p>Frank swallowed whatever he had meant to say. Because… <i>yeah</i>.</p>
<p>Jensen now spun around, but Frank wouldn’t have it. </p>
<p>“Not so fast,” he said and slipped past him, to stand between Jensen and the door. “This is already making things awkward, and I’m not letting you go until we clear this up. We have to work together and not being able to look at each other without cringing will make it worse.”</p>
<p>“I could just punch a hole in the wall if you don’t let me out the door,” Jensen said darkly, but without any force.</p>
<p>“You could.” Frank leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “But you won’t. You’re not that much of an asshole.”</p>
<p>“Maybe not.” Jensen’s voice was heavy. “But maybe I’m too much of a coward. Please let me out.”</p>
<p>“Not before you give me something to work with.”</p>
<p>“Pritchard…” And with that, the shades slid back into place.</p>
<p>“Jensen.” Frank did not move away from the door. “Ten minutes ago you were all broken-hearted and ‘Frank, boo-hoo I missed you’, and now you’re trying to hightail it out of here and I have the right to know why!” Frank had a hard time to keep himself from shouting at Jensen to fuck off already, but he wouldn't let him go until he knew.</p>
<p>“You think this makes things awkward?” Jensen looked up, and Frank could feel the glare through his shades. “How awkward do you think this gets when I tell you?”</p>
<p>“Less awkward than when I keep on imagining all sorts of bullshit.”</p>
<p>“Pritchard…”</p>
<p>He should let him go. Frank should really let him go and try to forget about it, but he couldn’t, because what had led to the kisses was a lot more than just wanting to make out. And as much of an asshole as Jensen could be, he would never toy with someone like this. But while Frank knew he had a right to know what was wrong, he also knew – had seen it in Jensen’s eyes – that whatever this was, it ran a lot deeper than having second thoughts about kissing a co-worker.</p>
<p>And maybe, maybe there was a chance he wouldn’t hit the ground after that leap of faith, but he definitely would if he let Jensen go now.</p>
<p>The Frank from before, before the hell of the last weeks had shattered parts of him and put him together again in a new – and probably better – configuration, that Frank would have told Jensen to fuck off already. Would have had nothing but scorn for himself for trusting, and nothing but venom for the man who broke that trust. </p>
<p>But the new configurations had apparently upgraded the settings for his social abilities. And what had happened also gave him the will to not let go when something good was offered to him. Frank would not give this up without a fight.</p>
<p>“Talk to me. You can sit down on the sofa if you want to. I’ll even make you a coffee. But you will talk to me or I swear I <i>will</i> hack into your arms and make you hit yourself until you do.”</p>
<p>After a moment, Jensen slipped out of his coat and hung it up onto the coat rack. He still didn’t move yet, but Frank dared to push himself off the door and headed to the kitchen. While he busied himself with rinsing his mug he kept half an eye on Jensen, who eventually turned around and crossed the room to fall into the sofa, pressed into the corner between armrest and back. </p>
<p>He decided against his usual drink-by-the-gallon instant coffee as he normally would in a stressful situation, and equipped with two mugs of coffee from his perfectly calibrated Italian mocha machine – a corporate paycheck was good for a lot of things – Frank sat down on the sofa as well, but at the other end. He set the cup down onto the table in front of Jensen and closed his hands around his own. </p>
<p>“I…” Jensen took a deep breath. “It’s really me and not you. And I really don’t wanna talk about it, but you’re not letting me go until I do, do you.”</p>
<p>“You could force your way out,” Frank replied slowly. “But I don’t think you really want to. Whatever it is, you knew it before you came here and chose to ignore it, and it came back to bite you in the ass.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ass is the right cue.” Jensen picked up his cup without looking at him, and closed his fingers around it. Black polymer against grey porcelain. A dark suspicion began to rise in Frank’s mind.</p>
<p>“So I can’t touch you, is it that?” He had been right, there was more to this. Jensen wasn’t supposed to look like a dead man walking after Frank had copped a feel of his backside. Inhibited maybe, or embarrassed. But not… not like this.</p>
<p>“It’s…” Jensen shook his head. “Sometimes I can’t even stand to look at myself, and the thought of… of someone else…”</p>
<p>Well, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Frank closed his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, still hot but just about cooled enough to not burn his tongue. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, but Jensen’s body issues were real and he didn’t deserve sarcasm just because Frank sucked at being comforting. </p>
<p>It took him a while to sort himself out, to trust himself to not make it worse. </p>
<p>“You can’t stand the thought of someone else looking at you,” Frank finished, keeping his voice as gentle as he could, surprised at how well he managed. It wasn’t a skill he had been cultivating.</p>
<p>Frank knew of post-augmentation body dysphoria, of course, especially for people who hadn’t wanted to be augmented but had not had a choice, for medical reasons. And in Jensen’s case, there had been a lot more augmentation than medically necessary.</p>
<p>After a moment of heavy silence, Jensen nodded, still staring into his cup. “I just…” He faltered. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>“Can’t let someone look at you?”</p>
<p>“I can’t!” Jensen set the cup down so hard some coffee spilled over the edge. “I can think of anything to get me turned on, but as soon as I go and do something about it… I just…” Another frustrated shake of his head. “I just can’t really get it up anymore, and if I do, it doesn’t last. I’m of no use to you, or anyone else. I was hoping… but… yeah.”</p>
<p>Well <i>fuck</i>. </p>
<p>“Have you spoken to your therapist about that?” Frank asked, as matter-of-factly as he could.</p>
<p>“Of course I have.” </p>
<p>“And I assume he told you some shit or another about learning to love yourself again.”</p>
<p>A derisive snort. “Are you a part-time shrink as well?”</p>
<p>“No.” Frank took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve just had my share of useless therapy Sarif talked me into, and I’ve heard it all before, believe me.”</p>
<p>Now Jensen straightened up somewhat. “Why would you need therapy?”</p>
<p>It did sound disbelieving rather than insulting, so Frank just looked up at him. He himself had his share of shit from his past he didn’t like thinking or talking about, and he had worked hard to sort his life out around that. But Jensen had opened up to him about something as intimate and painful as this, and Frank felt it was only fair if he came clean himself. And maybe… maybe this was salvageable, now that Frank knew why Jensen looked so haunted.</p>
<p>That didn’t mean it was easy however, but Frank would rather get it over it swiftly, so he took one breath to steady himself. His past wasn’t a secret after all, not to Jensen at least who knew everyone’s files.</p>
<p>“You know I’ve been to jail?”</p>
<p>Jensen frowned, and nodded. </p>
<p>“You’ve been a cop, Jensen, so you probably know what it’s like in there.” He didn’t like how harsh and bitter his voice was, but this wasn’t easy. “And I guess you heard all the prison shower jokes before too, right?”</p>
<p>It took a moment, and the change in Jensen’s face was almost comical; would have been if the topic wasn’t so dire. His discomfort at his own situation changed into mild confusion, and the moment when realisation hit him it turned into cold, hard fury. </p>
<p>Better than pity, at least. </p>
<p>“If you give me their names I’ll make sure they regret the day they were born.” Jensen’s voice was hoarse, flat with anger.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jensen…” Frank actually had to chuckle. “I know you mean well, but that’s just bullshit. You have to know what happens when a few random people suddenly die a very violent death, their only connection to each other the same prison? Still serving, or already out?”</p>
<p>Jensen kept staring at him for a moment, and then he sagged. “Yeah. They’d go after everyone else who served at the same time.”</p>
<p>Frank took another sip of his coffee. “Apart from that,” he said, his voice lower than he liked, “nothing you could do to them would change anything.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Jensen’s voice was heavy as lead, and he picked up and drained his cup. “I know.”</p>
<p>Frank emptied his own cup, and stared into the last drops collecting at the bottom. After a moment he felt eyes on him and looked up, to find Jensen looking back at him with the ghost of a wry smile on his face. </p>
<p>“We’re both just two traumatized fuck-ups, huh?” Jensen said, voice low and surprisingly gentle.</p>
<p>“You could say that,” Frank gave back, his own voice equally low. </p>
<p>A beat of silence passed.</p>
<p>“Are we really having another moment here, Jensen?” Frank’s attempt at sarcasm failed utterly. “We seem to have a lot of those, lately.”</p>
<p>“Seems like,” Jensen just replied. Then his shades retracted again.</p>
<p>Their eyes met, and Frank didn’t know what happened, again, but suddenly the distance between them was gone. He was at Jensen’s side so it had been him who had moved, but somehow he was beyond caring. And Jensen didn’t resist; he didn’t even tense before resting a hand between Frank’s shoulder blades before their lips met again. </p>
<p>Jensen’s hair was so unbelievably soft as Frank carded his fingers through it, but he tried not to think too much, not about how much he enjoyed the sensation, and not about how surprisingly gentle and almost tender their kisses were. But it felt too good to pull back. </p>
<p>When they eventually broke the kiss, with a very soft and gentle sound that made Frank’s skin tingle, Jensen rested his forehead against Franks, exhaling softly.</p>
<p>“Why are we kissing like this,” he asked, voice a low, husky rumble.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Frank muttered back.</p>
<p>“We’re kissing like…” Jensen hesitated. “As if… as if we’re in love.”</p>
<p>“Ridiculous,” Frank said, although the words cut him to the core. Because it was ridiculous. Pritchard and Jensen being in love, maybe, but being in love <i>with each other</i>? “We’re not,” he said, with far less conviction that he had hoped for.</p>
<p>Because all those things he had been thinking about before, from the moment in the Tech Lab right up until he had made Jensen sit down on this sofa, they all meant nothing, right? <i>Right?</i> </p>
<p>When the fuck had this happened, and how? He wasn’t in love with Jensen… yes, he wanted to climb him like a tree, and yes, he cared about him, and he had been worried and… and he had mourned him, had been fighting against crying about his death more times than he cared to remember, and... </p>
<p>And he was so, so fucked.</p>
<p>“Definitely not,” Jensen replied. He sounded about as convincing as Frank himself had.</p>
<p>The silence between them was so thick and heavy Frank could taste it. He was drowning in it. He had to say something but there wasn’t much left to say. He knew perfectly well what was going on inside him. </p>
<p>And he was tired of fighting it.</p>
<p>“Denial is not only a river in Egypt,” he eventually muttered, trying to hold Jensen’s… Adam’s gaze. “And if you think all I want from you is your dick, then you’re more stupid than I thought.” There, it was out now, no turning back.</p>
<p>“Yeah…” Jensen’s voice was low, almost a whisper.</p>
<p>And then he reached out and gently pried the hair tie out of Frank’s ponytail, and dropped it onto the table as Frank’s hair fell around his face. </p>
<p>It was ridiculous how vulnerable and bare he felt like that. He never took his hair down when anyone else was around; not even the no-strings-attached one night stands he had taken somewhere – not home, never his home, he didn’t want strangers in his bed – had seen him without his ponytail. But now Jensen reached out and sifted strands of Frank’s hair through his fingers oh so gently, the thumb of the hand between Frank’s shoulders rubbing gentle circles into his skin. </p>
<p>It made Frank shudder. It also made him want to kiss Jensen again. And when Jensen carefully wound a strand of Frank’s hair around his fingers, a small smile <i>that was not wondrous affection</i> on his face, Frank did just that. </p>
<p>Again, he didn’t quite know how it had happened but he somehow found himself in Jensen’s lap, straddling his thighs, and his fingers were carding through Adam’s hair while his arms were holding Frank gently but firmly in place. </p>
<p>Their kisses still felt so good; with the tips of their tongues brushing almost playfully against each other, gentle touches of lips, accompanied by the soft sounds of their kisses and their breaths. And yes, due to their position Frank could very much feel the absence of something that probably should have been there, but the knowledge that it wasn’t personal turned into a negligible detail. </p>
<p>Because this wasn’t about sex. It was about something that Frank was still scared to think about, but that he couldn’t deny, that he didn’t want to deny anymore. This was more than a meaningless fling. Because those kinds of touches, fingers digging into skin in a way that could hardly be called a caress, were something entirely different than what Jensen’s hands were currently doing, and it was so nice, so warm, and… and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed affection during any act of contact. Which he tried to avoid at all cost anyway.</p>
<p>He did not want to be in love with Adam Jensen, but he had passed the point of no return. He didn’t know when it had happened, when it had started, but he did know that during the moment in the Tech Lab, it had likely been too late. His only comfort was the fact that he could feel Jensen’s heartbeat under his hand, with his fingers resting on the other man’s neck. And Jensen’s heart was racing as hard and fast as Frank’s own.</p>
<p>Eventually they had to part for air, and Jensen rested his forehead against Franks again, his fingers still gentle against his back. Frank suppressed the thought of maybe taking off his shirt to feel them on his skin, but that was a bad idea at the best of times. And then Jensen huffed out a sigh heavy enough to blow the hairs around Frank’s face out of the way. </p>
<p>“That was one damn deep sigh, Jensen,” Frank whispered with the trace of a smile.</p>
<p>“You could…” Jensen didn’t move away to look at him. “You could maybe call me Adam, a little more often? At least when… we’re close? Alone? Like… like this?”</p>
<p>“I could,” Frank replied, ignoring his fluttering heart, because that implied there would be more moments like this one, and he… he wanted that. He really did. “But only if you stop calling me Francis.”</p>
<p>“It’s a deal, Frank,” Adam… replied in a husky whisper. </p>
<p>“Then it’s a deal… Adam.” The name felt strangely heavy on his lips, but then Jensen… Adam kissed him again. </p>
<p>There was more to unpack here, and they would have to talk about what they wanted, where they wanted this to go, and they would doubtlessly have to talk about the issues with their bodies that they both still had. </p>
<p>He tried not to think about it because they were still kissing like they meant it, and as gentle as those kisses were, Frank was still ridiculously hard. He would have to do something about that later, when he wouldn’t have to involve Jensen in this.</p>
<p>Adam. God, fuck this, why was this so difficult.</p>
<p>But maybe he should have thought about that sooner, because due to him still straddling Adam’s lap, not only was he able to feel the absence of an erection on Adam’s side, of course Adam could feel the raging boner Frank was currently dealing with. </p>
<p>He broke the kiss and leaned his head back a little. His eyelids were heavy. “Need help with that?” he asked with a little nudge of his hips.</p>
<p>“I think I can manage,” Frank replied, still slightly breathless. He had not been able to imagine how good a kisser Jen… Adam was. </p>
<p>“Are we moving too fast?” Adam asked then, tilting his head.</p>
<p>“Moving too fast has nothing to do with it.” Then Frank took a deep breath. “I don’t think trying to walk on eggshells around the topic is going to help.” Another deep breath. “I don’t really like it one-sided.”</p>
<p>Now a frown appeared on Adam’s face. “I… I really hoped it wouldn’t happen, when I came here. Or rather… that it would happen.”</p>
<p>“And maybe, it will,” Frank replied, keeping his voice low. “Eventually.”</p>
<p>“You think?” Adam asked, narrowing his eyes. </p>
<p>Frank didn’t like the haunted look in his eyes and leaned closer. “Who else but the mighty Pritchard could fix this, do you think?”</p>
<p>It had the desired effect, and Adam huffed out a chuckle under his breath. “It’s not as if you could hack into my dick, though.”</p>
<p>“Not your dick, no.” Frank didn’t resist the urge to touch Adam again and ran his fingers through the other man’s hair. “But maybe I can get it into your skull that you are still attractive and desirable.”</p>
<p>“To you, maybe.”</p>
<p>“And who else is there that matters?” Frank asked pointedly, lifting his eyebrows. </p>
<p>Adam opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again. Another chuckle, but this one was without mirth. “You haven’t seen yet what you’d be dealing with.”</p>
<p>Frank inhaled deeply and pressed his lips together for a moment. “Adam…” he began hesitantly. “I have... I have seen you.”</p>
<p>Adam tensed, swallowed heavily, and gritted his teeth so hard his cheekbones protruded. “What,” he said hoarsely.</p>
<p>“In that… in the bodysnatcher’s facility,” Frank replied slowly. “When I brought you back from the sort-of-dead. You were… naked, save for a small piece of fabric for decency’s sake.”</p>
<p>Adam was still gritting his teeth, but now it was audible.</p>
<p>“Please don’t crack a tooth, Jensen, it’s not as if I could have helped it,” Frank said hastily. “I didn’t ogle you, if that’s what worries you, I was focused on getting you up and running while trying not to suffocate.”</p>
<p>“Suffocate?” Adam frowned at him. </p>
<p>Frank shrugged. “There were more bodies, and a few amputated limbs. They hadn’t cleaned them, and the whole room stank of rotting blood and putrefaction. It was… awful.”</p>
<p>Adam was still tense and frowning. </p>
<p>“Really, I had other things to worry about than how you look.” Frank shook his head with a shrug. “Namely, not puking all over you while trying to jumpstart your neural processors without frying what was left of your brain. But for what it’s worth, what I’ve seen didn’t put me off.”</p>
<p>After another moment Adam sighed, and his shoulders dropped again. “It’s not as if you can unsee that now, can you.”</p>
<p>“I can’t,” Frank said, and ran his fingers through Adam’s hair again. “And I know it wasn’t consensual, but I didn't have a choice.”</p>
<p>Adam lowered his eyes. “Consent doesn’t really matter in situations of life or death.” </p>
<p>“Well, no, it doesn’t,” Frank replied, and cleared his throat because thinking of what he was going to say wasn’t easy. “And I know the ER and hospital staff didn’t have a choice either, but I’m trying very unsuccessfully to forget that I was in a coma for a week, wearing diapers and with a rubber tube up my dick.”</p>
<p>They looked each other, and finally Adam untensed somewhat. “We two have more unresolved issues than the Nuremberg Trials,” he muttered, and Frank had to chuckle.</p>
<p>“Maybe we have a lot to unpack after all,” he said, and continued carding his fingers through Adam’s hair. It was ridiculous how much he enjoyed the sensation.</p>
<p>“But we have time to do that, don’t we?” Adam asked, a trace of hesitation in his voice, but the tips of his fingers slowly slipped under the hem of Frank’s sweater. </p>
<p>“We do, Adam.” Frank rested his forehead against Adam’s. Strange how good this felt. “We do.”</p>
<p>Frank expected the hands on his hips to wander further up, but they stayed where they were, which was both mildly frustrating and strangely comforting. </p>
<p>Then Adam took a deep breath. “Can we cuddle for a bit?”</p>
<p>“I do not cuddle,” Frank replied with more conviction than he felt. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I thought as much.”</p>
<p>But Frank had recently discovered that hugs weren’t so bad, after all, so maybe he could give this cuddling business a chance as well. </p>
<p>So not much later he found himself stretched out on the sofa, half on top of Adam and half next to him wedged between Adam’s body and the backrest, with one of Adam’s arm around his middle, and the other carding through his hair. </p>
<p>Yeah, maybe he could get used to this. </p>
<p>Frank’s head was resting on Adam’s shoulder, and then Adam turned his head and dropped a kiss onto Frank’s temple that made his skin tingle. </p>
<p>Frank closed his eyes with a sigh. He could definitely get used to this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Look at this! <a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1329052395196743684?s=20">I got art again!</a> I have died and gone to fanfic writer heaven!<br/>Go hop back to chapter 1 because I got art for that and linked it there. Give the artist some love on twitter if you can!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Important:</b><br/>Sex was never a focus point of the story and will never be. But since I apparently can't help myself there is a little of it further down the chapter. So if you don't want to read anything of that kind, you can skip the part between the asterisks *** and you won't miss anything important regarding the plot.</p><hr/><p>Check the endnotes for more art!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Fran...k.”</p><p>Frank was poked in the chest with a finger.</p><p>“Don’t call me Francis,” he muttered into what felt like a shoulder under his cheek.</p><p>“I didn’t.”</p><p>“What do you want.”</p><p>“You fell asleep.”</p><p>Frank opened his eyes with a muffled grunt and lifted his head. Oh. He really was playing human pretzel with Jensen on his sofa.</p><p>With Adam. One day. One day he would be used to calling him that. And then his brain had managed to process what Adam had said.</p><p><em>Oh.</em> He had fallen asleep. On his sofa. Glued to Adam Jensen.</p><p>He was… <em>cuddling.</em></p><p>“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up,” Adam said, and combed his fingers through Frank’s hair. “You clearly needed it when you fall asleep five minutes after lying down.”</p><p>“Than why did you wake me,” Frank muttered, and began to understand why cats purred when you petted their head. It felt nice. Really nice. He could do this forever.</p><p>“Because,” Adam said and removed his hand, that asshole, “if you don’t let me get up I’m gonna piss all over myself and your sofa.”</p><p>Frank sighed, because that was a valid reason, and tried to sit up. It took an awkward moment of spinal acrobatics and untangling of limbs until they were both sitting like normal people again, and as soon as that was accomplished Jensen got up and headed for the bathroom.</p><p>Frank stretched and arched his back with popping and crunching vertebrae, and by the time Adam returned he was sitting there pondering the map in his hands.</p><p>“Travel plans?” Adam asked as he sat down.</p><p>Frank nodded, and then looked up. “I guess this puts them on hold.”</p><p>“This.” Adam tilted his head.</p><p>“This,” Frank said again, gesturing back and forth between the two of them. “Us.”</p><p>Us. There was an <em>us</em>, all of a sudden. It made his stomach flutter. His skin tingle. It made Adam smile. And that made Frank’s stomach do a somersault.</p><p>“And why would I put your travel plans on hold?” Adam asked.</p><p>“Because I don’t think I want to leave Detroit for a week anymore.”</p><p>“I’m not telling you not to go,” Adam replied with a frown.</p><p>“I know you don’t,” Frank gave back. “I just don’t want to.”</p><p>The tiniest of smirks appeared on Adam’s face. “Oh.”</p><p>“Yes. Oh.” Frank tried to ignore his fluttering heart as Adam leaned closer. “I clearly can’t let you out of my sight for more than five minutes before you-” <em>...get yourself killed</em>, but those words got stuck in his throat before he could finish that sentence, and left a bitter taste on his tongue.</p><p>Adam reached out, brushed a few strands of hair behind Frank’s ear, and leaned close. He must have seen it in Frank’s eyes, and offered the best distraction he could think of. And yes, that worked well. Very well, as not only was Frank unable to think, he didn’t want to think anymore, wanted only to get lost in the sensation of Adam deepening the kiss with a soft hum.</p><p>He let himself be pushed onto his back, closed his eyes as Adam trailed a few kisses across his jaw line and his neck, but then he reached for the zipper of Frank’s hoodie and Frank couldn’t help but tense. Before he knew what he was doing he had pushed Adam’s hand away and sat up again, maybe pushing him back too roughly, but he couldn’t… not just like this.</p><p>“Frank?” Adam leaned back. “I didn’t…”</p><p>“Didn’t what?” Frank asked to gain some time.</p><p>“Didn’t mean to… push too far, too fast.”</p><p>Frank huffed out a sigh and shook his head. “You didn’t,” he said then in a low voice. “You’re not the only one with body issues.”</p><p>Adam leaned back, and incredulous frown on his face. “What could you possibly have any issues about? Not being ripped?”</p><p>“It’s not that,” Frank gave back, a little too sharply, because Adam pressed his lips together and that kind of hurt. He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, it’s just that… that there is a reason I always wear turtlenecks.”</p><p>“Scars?” Adam asked gently.</p><p>“A tattoo that I very much regret,” Frank replied hesitantly.</p><p>“Oh.” Adam smiled again, but gently, as if to calm him. “I can’t imagine a tattoo that’s so hideous I wouldn’t want to look at you anymore.”</p><p>“You know how it is, Jensen,” Frank gave back, half angry, half desperate. “You look at yourself and you know, technically, that other people wouldn’t mind, but you, you mind, you just can’t stand looking at yourself, so you don’t want other people to look at you either.”</p><p>Adam was silent for a moment, and then he reached out again to brush some hairs behind Frank’s ear. It was a gesture that was strangely intimate, and strangely comforting. “Yeah, I do understand that. Is it really that bad?”</p><p>Frank sighed again. “I was… young, and stupid, and thought I could be a scrawny IT nerd and a badass at the same time. And for a time, I really thought I was. But when I got out of jail I couldn’t look at myself anymore without thinking about how stupid I was, about the guy I was before, the one with the attitude that got me arrested. And I really don’t want to be that guy anymore, but I am reminded of him every time I look into a mirror. I don’t want to see it, and I know from experience that other people who see it… well, reactions span from amused to being put off.”</p><p>“I can’t see myself being put off by anything about you,” Adam said, taking one of Frank’s hands. “But I do understand you feeling self-conscious about it.”</p><p>“Self-conscious doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Frank muttered and looked at their joined hands.</p><p>“Is it really that bad?” Adam asked, his thumb caressing the back of Frank’s hand.</p><p>“It’s fucked up,” Frank replied through gritted teeth. “I didn’t even want to wait until I had saved up enough so I went to a tattoo parlour that was cheap, and now it’s not only exceptionally embarrassing, it’s also exceptionally bungled, not that I cared, back then. Not waiting for the right time got me a crappy tattoo that I hate, not waiting to wait for the right moment got me arrested because I was too…” Frank huffed out an angry sigh.</p><p>“Hubris comes before the fall,” Adam said in a low voice.</p><p>“Spare me the wisdom of ye olden days, Jensen,” Frank said without being able to put heat or anger into his voice. “But yes. And I have been saving up for a laser treatment but the thing is huge and the treatment is expensive.”</p><p>Adam took a soft breath and moved a little closer. “How much do you still need?”</p><p>Frank finally looked up at him, but there was nothing but gentle sincerity in Adam’s face.</p><p>“Because I really have a lot more credits lying around in my bank account than I need. If it makes you feel better you can treat it as a loan.”</p><p>“You… you don’t have to,” Frank said weakly.</p><p>“But I want to,” Adam replied. “I don’t want you to be ashamed of your skin. But you are.” And then he leaned closer, so close that Frank could feel Adam’s breath on his skin. “Apart from that I’m being entirely selfish here, because I really, really want to see you without your shirt, and touch you,” he whispered against Frank lips. “And if I can’t do that before you got that treatment I’m gonna do everything I can to make that happen asap.”</p><p>Frank didn’t have a chance to think of a reply before he was being kissed again. And this time, Adam meant business, because he opened his lips against Frank’s, and when he parted his in response the moan that escaped Adam made every hair on Frank’s body stand on edge.</p><p>And then Frank found himself pressed into the sofa, enveloped by strong arms, fingers digging into his hair, lips trailing along his jaw and against his ear, hot breath caressing his skin. And then those hands wandered down his arms, along his thighs, and up again, but not on the insides.</p><p>Frank hadn’t realised how hungry he was for this touch, but then Adam’s hands slid under the hoodie, tugged the T-shirt out of the hem of his sweatpants, and slid under the shirt across Frank’s skin.</p><p>It was so little, and it felt like so much. It had been so long, and Frank felt himself hungry, desperately hungry for more of those touches. He wanted this, with Adam, and this time, when one of those hands left his shirt and wandered up his arm again, Frank didn’t flinch when Adam’s thumb and forefinger closed around the pull tab of the zipper.</p><p>Then Adam broke the kiss, and looked at Frank, right into his eyes, asking for confirmation, for consent, and Frank knew if he said no now, Adam would never ask again. He knew how important consent was to everything regarding his body, and so did Frank.</p><p>And he knew he was safe with Adam. He dared not to think about what that meant, but he nodded, once. Adam took a deep breath and pulled, but he did so very slowly, and kept looking at Frank’s face. Waiting for him to withdraw his consent, to say no, to tell Adam to stop. But he didn’t. He wanted this, and he knew, beyond doubt, that Adam would neither laugh nor scoff.</p><p>The zipper was open, and Adam pulled him close by the shoulders. “Come on,” he whispered, softly, gently, making Frank shudder. “Take that off.”</p><p>And Frank let Adam push the hoodie off his shoulders, pull it down his arms and over his wrists, and shook it off to drop it next to the sofa. He was still wearing the T-shirt, so like this only the collection of lines wrapping around his neck were visible. Frank stared at Adam now, waiting for a judgment he somehow knew wouldn’t come.</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” Adam said gently, and his fingers slowly traced one of the lines.</p><p>“You haven’t seen the whole thing yet,” Frank replied, his voice a little rough.</p><p>“Hm.” Adam hooked his finger into the neckline of the shirt, and tugged it down the tiniest bit. “Can I, though?”</p><p>Frank had to take a deep breath to calm his breathing, but it didn’t calm, not the slightest. But he had gotten this far, and might as well go all the way. Adam’s eyes were still on him, the look in them soft, almost impossibly so considering the eyes were synthetic, but synthetic or not, eyes were a window into the soul.</p><p>Frank was safe. He was safe. He had to be.</p><p>He nodded again.</p><p>Adam inhaled deeply and dropped a soft, feather-light kiss onto Frank’s lips before he leaned back. He slipped his hands under the hem of the T-shirt again and pushed it up, and further up, and Frank closed his eyes as he lifted both arms.</p><p>The shirt his the ground with a soft rustle of cloth.</p><p>“It’s really not that bad,” Adam said then, voice low and gentle.</p><p>“You think?” Frank opened his eyes again, mouth as dry as the Sahara.</p><p>“I have to admit I expected you to have one of a neon-green snake or something.”</p><p>“A nuclear snake.” Frank huffed out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I have that as well, between the shoulder blades. But that is older and was done properly.”</p><p>Then he looked down at himself, and wondered how Adam could have such a reaction to this.</p><p>Oh, how clever he had thought he was when he had the tattoo artist cover the left half of his chest and abdomen with circuit lines and contacts, making it look as if half his body was a computer part, making it look as if his heart was run by electronic controls. The lines started on the side of his neck and just below his Adam’s apple, encased the whole left shoulder in addition to half of his chest and the left side of his abdomen, and it had hurt like a motherfucker, but he had thought himself to be so badass, so clever, and Frank was really disgusted by his past self.</p><p>That cocksure attitude had gotten him arrested, and this ugly tattoo was a daily reminder. He had learned a hard and bitter lesson, and while he still had never hidden his light under a bushel he had learned to know his limits and not brag about something before he had accomplished it.</p><p>And then there was the topic of the quality, of course, on top of everything else. Him not wanting to wait until he had saved up enough. None of those lines were straight like they were supposed to be, if the pattern were an accurate depiction of a circuit board. Some of them honest to god looked as if a five year old had drawn them with a sharpie.</p><p>It was, in all, the reason why Frank always put on a shirt after a shower before even walking past the mirror, and why he never slept shirtless no matter how warm it was.</p><p>“I can see why that treatment would be expensive,” Adam said softly, and his finger followed one of the thicker lines, the one from the heart down towards his hip. “And what is that?”</p><p>Frank closed his eyes. He knew what Adam meant without looking. The lines of zeros and ones, a square block of text in binary code to the right of his navel, and in a way that was even worse than the circuits it was connected to. He wanted to invent time travel just to go back and slap his younger self.</p><p>“It’s binary,” Frank muttered, not looking at Adam, unable to look at him.</p><p>“I can see that,” Adam replied with a hint of amusement. “But what does it say?”</p><p>Frank could only shake his head, eyes pinched shut.</p><p>“It’s okay, I don’t really care anyway,” said then, with a soft chuckle. “It probably says something like ‘fuck the police’, but it could say ‘flower power’ or ‘here be dragons’ for all I care.”</p><p>It was there, right on Frank’s tongue, and he knew he could keep it there, he should keep it there because lying to Adam was out of the question.</p><p>“Well, maybe one day you’ll tell me,” Adam said then.</p><p>And suddenly the pressure was too much and he burst. “Suck my dick!” he almost yelled.</p><p>Adam looked up at him, eyebrows drawing together. “No need to get rude.”</p><p>“No!” Frank was suddenly close to hysterics because this was it, this was the moment Adam would decide he wasn’t worth his time because who would want someone this level of stupid? “That’s what it says!” It was almost choking him, but now it was out, he had to get it out, because then the worst would be over and he would see how serious this was, how safe he truly was… “It says: ‘suck my dick’!”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Frank couldn’t suppress a helpless, incredulous snort. “Oh?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Adam said, calm, cool, and with a smile. “I can see why you want that gone.”</p><p>And just like that, all the tension in his body suddenly had nowhere to go anymore, and Frank felt like a cartoon character who had the ground pulled out from under him and needed a second to process that, before falling into the abyss.</p><p>“Uh…” he said weakly, faintly, his eyes on Adam’s face.</p><p>“Yeah,” Adam said again, and slowly tilted his head as he looked at the rows of numbers again. “Though it’s not a bad idea, actually.”</p><p>Frank’s brain experienced a moment of bluescreen. “...what?”</p><p>***</p><p>Adam leaned close and then his lips were on the side of Frank’s neck, making him shudder, wandered along his shoulder, down across his chest following the circuit lines, and past his navel. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Frank’s sweatpants as he slowly slid off the sofa to kneel between Frank’s legs. And before Frank could even think of something to say, Adam lowered his head and nosed along Frank’s rapidly hardening dick.</p><p>“Seems like a good idea,” Adam muttered, his voice dropping a whole octave. “Unless…” and here he looked up, “unless you don’t want me to.”</p><p>“I… I’d be an idiot if I say no to that,” Frank said in a shaky voice, his heart hammering in his chest.</p><p>“You are many things, Frank Pritchard,” Adam said under his breath as he tugged at the hem of Frank’s pants and briefs, his voice a low hum that made Frank’s body tingle. He tugged again, and then his fingers were cupping Frank’s balls, and the other hand closed around the base of his dick. “But an idiot, you’re not.”</p><p>Before Frank had a chance to think of a reply Adam’s lips closed around the tip of his dick, and he let his head fall back with a low, throaty groan. This hadn’t even been featured in his wildest dreams, Adam Jensen kneeling between his legs giving him head, and it felt so good, almost too good to be true. Adam’s tongue and lips were doing amazing things to him, and at the edge of his conscious mind Frank realised that he wasn’t doing this for the first time but why would that even matter.</p><p>Frank wanted to warn him, tell him that he wouldn’t, couldn’t last long, but he couldn’t make words. So he tried to warn him of his imminent orgasm by tugging at his hair, but Adam stayed stubbornly in place, and only increased his efforts, humming around Frank’s dick in obvious pleasure. Frank wasn’t able to hold back any longer however, and came with a suffocated groan, his fingers buried in Adam’s hair.</p><p>***</p><p>He was still coming down from the high when Adam carefully stowed Frank away again, and he let himself being manhandled on the sofa, bundled into Adam’s arms.</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d take this literally,” he muttered into Adam’s shoulder after a moment, when his mind had cleared up again.</p><p>“Hmm…” Adam nuzzled the top of Frank’s head, his nose buried in Frank’s hair. “Still want to get rid of it?”</p><p>Frank had to chuckle. “I’m hoping you’ll blow me again sometime without a written order.”</p><p>Adam chuckled as well, and leaned back again. “You want something to drink?”</p><p>“And you even spoil me with post-orgasm solicitousness?” Frank ran his fingers through Adam’s hair. It seemed to quickly have become a favourite thing of his. “What a lucky guy I am. Would you bring me another coffee?”</p><p>Adam smiled, a sight so rare that it almost took Frank’s breath away. He moved his fingers to the back of Adam’s head to pull him in for a kiss, and got lost again in the sensation of soft lips and the gentle scratch of beard.</p><p>Then Adam broke away. “You wanted another coffee.”</p><p>“I’m fine with making out a little more,” Frank replied and arched his back.</p><p>“We can do that after the coffee.”</p><p>With that he got up, and Frank followed him with his eyes. He really wanted to get his hands on that booty. But now, he would no longer have to be content with dreaming about it.</p><p>It was impossible to wipe the smile off his face that had gotten comfortable there.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have died and gone to fanfic writer heaven because this chapter got <a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1329767750256926720?s=20">artwork</a> too only a few hours after uploading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Important: </b>This chapter contains sex as well, and although I am not nearly as graphic as I could be, I still have it marked with asterisks *** at the beginning and end for you to skip over. It's a bit longer this time, because of the issues Adam mentioned in the last chapter I used a bit more time to describe it though it's definitely not written as porny. You will not miss anything plot relevant however. Up to you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey Frank,” came Adam’s voice from the kitchen. “How does this thing work?”</p><p>“Keep your artificial fingers off my mocha machine, Jensen!” Frank hastily pushed himself out of the sofa. “That thing has been painstakingly calibrated!”</p><p>“I’m not touching it,” Adam replied. “That’s why I’m asking how it works.”</p><p>“Good.” Frank tugged his shirt and his pants into place. His knees were still slightly weak, but he made his way to the kitchen swiftly enough.</p><p>He was about to take the cups from Adam’s hand when Adam pulled them back with a small grin. “Why don’t you teach me how to use it, then?”</p><p>Frank cleared his throat. “Why would…”</p><p>“Maybe I’ll be over a bit more often now?” Adam offered. “Unless you don’t want me to.”</p><p>“You should know the answer to that one perfectly well, Jensen,” Frank gave back and tried his best to give him a stern look. “But this is slightly more complicated than operating the cover of an air duct.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry for being big and dumb, Francis,” Adam gave back, with a grin of his own. “I guess you’ll have to make it yourself, then.”</p><p>“On the other hand, you might turn out to not be a lost cause,” Frank replied, and put the first cup into the machine. “As far as I know you can hack security locks and screw a silencer on a pistol, so maybe you’re not completely hopeless.”</p><p>“Hmm.” Adam stepped behind him to look over his shoulder.</p><p>“This is where the coarseness setting is adjusted,” Frank said and pointed at the dial in question. “We do not touch that. Here we have the amount of water, one setting for the bigger mugs, one for a normal... cup.” He faltered, only for a moment, when Adam stepped close enough that their bodies touched, his breath grazing the skin of Frank’s neck. “Always make sure the cup is big enough or you will have to clean up the mess yourself. Other than that, this is where you put the cup, and this is the button you press to get coffee—the button, you press the button, not the buttock, take your hands of my ass, Jensen, you’re distracting me.”</p><p>Adam snorted into Frank’s hair, but Frank was grinning too.</p><p>“Oh, and make sure to check the water and beans every now and then. If the water runs dry too early you get tar, and if it’s the beans do you get dishwater. You refill the beans here, and the water here.”</p><p>“Doesn’t sound too complicated to me,” Adam said then and rested his chin on Frank’s shoulder. At least Adam wasn’t that much taller than Frank to make it too easy for him.</p><p>“And now,” Frank said slowly, as he watched the coffee dribble into the second cup, “we could… find something to entertain us while we wait for the coffee to cool.”</p><p>“And what were you thinking about?” Adam muttered into his hair.</p><p>“I was thinking of returning the favour,” Frank said, and turned around.</p><p>Adam closed his eyes for a moment, slightly tense, but he still rested his hands on Frank’s hips. “I’m not sure I’m ready to try that,” he said in a low voice.</p><p>Frank took a deep breath and ran his fingers through Adam’s hair. “Never? Or… just not now?”</p><p>“Not now,” Adam replied. “I… I have to think about it. Not if I want to, because I do. But… to get used to the thought that someone else wants to.”</p><p>Frank narrowed his eyes, and then closed the distance between their bodies. “Then get used to it quickly, Jensen. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for a very long time now.”</p><p>“Oh.” Adam tilted his head. “You have?”</p><p>“Not only my hands,” Frank purred as he pressed their bodies together. “And I know this is difficult for you to handle, but you just need the right tools.”</p><p>“Tools?”</p><p>“You know.” Frank folded his hands behind Adam’s neck. “Therapy gives you tools to handle certain situations. This clearly needs some special tools.”</p><p>“And…” Adam clung his arms around Frank’s hips, “what would those tools be?”</p><p>“The right environment, and the right stimulation, of course.” Frank leaned closer, and nibbled at the skin on the side of Adam’s neck.</p><p>“Stimulation.” Adam was beginning to breathe a little faster.</p><p>“Hmm. You think the issues your dick has with this world can withstand the whole Francis Wendell Pritchard experience?”</p><p>“I… I don’t know,” Adam whispered, but he sounded doubtful, not disbelieving.</p><p>“Will you let me try?” Frank whispered into his ear. “I was always able to... get a rise out of you.”</p><p>“But...” Adam muttered, his head dropping to one side, giving Frank free access to a lot more of the sensitive skin, and he took full advantage of it. “What if…”</p><p>“If it doesn’t work?” Frank grazed the shell of Adam’s ear with the tip of his tongue. “Then we’ll drink coffee and whenever you're ready, we’ll try again.”</p><p>Adam emitted a soft hiss when Frank softly bit into his earlobe. “But do you… do you really…”</p><p>“Want this? Christ, Jensen!” Frank pulled back and ground his hips against Adam’s thigh. “Do I have to drop my pants and show you how much I want my hands and my mouth on you? Because you might be aware of the fact that men are equipped with pretty accurate sexual lie detectors!”</p><p>“Unless they don’t work” Adam replied, but with a lopsided little smile.</p><p>“Which will require some skill and finesse, admittedly.” Frank nipped the skin of Adam’s neck with his teeth. “And probably a few attempts. But I can assure you that I am,” he pressed his groin into Adam’s hip again, “up for the challenge.”</p><p>“I can see that,” Adam chuckled breathlessly. “Alright, have your way with me.”</p><p>“I thought I’d never hear you say that,” Frank purred, and took a step back. “You mean it, though, don’t you?” He had to make sure, and met Adam’s eyes.</p><p>Adam nodded, and looked a lot more relaxed than he had moments ago. “Not making any promises, though.”</p><p>“If anything it should be me making the promises,” Frank replied and let his hands wander down Adam’s back, cupped his buttocks with a squeeze, and brought them forward to Adam’s hips. “Not today, maybe. Not tomorrow, either. But one day, Adam Jensen, I will make you come your brains out.”</p><p>“I’m not stopping you,” Adam whispered dryly and swallowed, because now Frank’s hands were working at the buckle of his belt.</p><p>“Good,” Frank said, and sank to his knees. But then he looked up again. “But if you want me to stop, then I will,” he said, meeting Adam’s eyes. “You know that, right? And I promise I won’t take it personal if it doesn’t go anywhere.”</p><p>***</p><p>Adam nodded, and threaded the fingers of one hand into Frank’s hair. Frank licked his lips, a gesture that made Adam swallow audibly, and leaned forward and nose along Adam’s groin. He could feel… something, which was promising. Adam had said, after all, that he couldn’t really get it up anymore, that it didn’t last, and not that he couldn’t get it up anymore at all.</p><p>He took his sweet time however, undoing every button of Adam’s fly ever so slowly, and by the time he was tugging at the waistband of Adam’s underwear, Adam was already breathing hard, even harder when Frank also took his sweet time getting Adam’s dick and balls out. He was almost half-hard by now. Good. Frank could work with that.</p><p>He felt and saw Adam’s dick twitch in his hand as he gently pulled it free of Adam’s underwear, and he could feel his mouth water just from looking at it. He gave the tip a small flick of his tongue, enjoyed Adam’s hoarse gasp, and took a moment to think of the proper approach.</p><p>He shook his head, just a twitch, so his hair fell forward around his face. Then he adjusted his grip around Adam’s slowly growing erection, and resting it against his lower lip he slowly looked up at Adam, a heavy-lidded gaze, and let his tongue circle around the tip of the slowly hardening dick.</p><p>“Oh god,” Adam groaned, voice dry and broken.</p><p>“Frank will suffice for now,” Frank muttered, and sucked the tip of Adam’s dick between his lips. He had rarely enjoyed a sound this much as the high-pitched gasp that escaped Adam as he did so.</p><p>He looked up again, smiled at Adam around the hardening flesh in his mouth, and then he closed his eyes and moved his head, swallowing him down as deeply as he could. Which was very deep. Frank had always loved giving head and had been cultivating deep-throating for many years. And the sounds he got as a reward were delicious, and extremely rewarding as well. His own dick was already twitching, but it would bloody well have to wait.</p><p>And now he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Adam’s jeans and underwear and pulled, because he really, really wanted to get his hands on Adam’s ass. He felt Adam tense but he did not stop what his mouth was doing, and let his hands wander up again. He was slightly disappointed to discover that most of Adam’s ass was covered with the skin anchors of his legs, but he didn’t let that stop him from letting his hands roam everywhere he could reach, his fingers caressing skin and polymer equally.</p><p>“Frank…” A half-suffocated moan. “Stop…”</p><p>Frank immediately pulled back and looked up, but while he stilled the movements of his hands, he kept them in place for now.</p><p>“Do you…” Adam huffed out a breath. “Do you have an augmentation kink?”</p><p>Frank shook his head with a lopsided smile. “If anything, I have an Adam Jensen kink. I’m not turned on by your augments but by you, so would you mind terribly if I went back to enjoying myself?”</p><p>“I… uh…” Adam was still so short of breath that it was delightful to see and hear. “Please,” he said then, and Frank didn’t let him have another breath before he swallowed Adam’s dick down again as deeply as he could.</p><p>Moments later he felt Adam’s fingers dig into his hair, hard, almost painful, but unexpectedly he didn’t mind, not this time; not when he could feel Adam tense under his hands, not when he could hear Adam’s breath stutter, not when listened to the endless string of <em>god</em> and <em>yes</em> and <em>Frank</em> and <em>please</em> muttered in a husky, trembling voice.</p><p>But then Adam suddenly pulled harder. “Frank… stop…”</p><p>Frank pulled back, head flying up, and looked at Adam’s face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide, and he was breathing harshly with parted lips. “I want… please, can I see it?”</p><p>Frank could understand; he leaned back, and gave the tip of Adam’s dick a swirl with his tongue as he closed his hand around it instead. He had never allowed himself to imagine Adam’s dick, though not always successfully, but the reality was so much better than anything he could have come up with. Frank didn’t like his men hung like a horse and Adam’s dick was perfect, the right size, the right girth, with the slightest upward curve; smooth, silky, uncut, and perfect in every way that mattered to him.</p><p>It took two flicks of his wrist, three, and then he heard a broken shout, a hoarse bellow, and while this wasn’t one of his favourite things the sheer fact that it was Adam Jensen’s jizz landing on his face was a reward in itself, especially considering how they had started out earlier.</p><p>Frank let go of Adam’s dick now and sat back, then he looked up at Adam to let the image of Frank with jizz on his face and in his hair sink in. And Adam looked… he was wrecked. His mouth hanging open, his eyes half closed, his arms hanging weakly down, and Frank was sure that if he hadn’t been standing on augmented legs he would collapse.</p><p>“Adam,” Frank said softly as he got onto his feet. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be,” Adam whispered, and slowly opened his eyes. He took a moment until he was able to focus on Frank’s face, and then he reached out with a slightly watery smile to wipe one of the white droplets from Frank’s cheek.</p><p>He stared at his thumb as if he had never seen it before, and then he looked up at Frank again and swallowed. “Frank… I…”</p><p>“Don’t you dare to thank me,” Frank muttered, took Adam’s hand and swiped his tongue over the black polymer thumb to clean it. “I was having the time of my life, in case you hadn’t noticed.”</p><p>A breathless chuckle. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”</p><p>“I was,” Frank replied and stepped back. “And now, I think, you should pull up your pants again and make new coffee because those have gone cold, and I need to give myself a rinse.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry about that.”</p><p>“Why?” Frank asked simply. “It’s not as if you forced me.”</p><p>“But you were only doing me a favour.”</p><p>“Yes, but if I had not wanted to do it, I wouldn’t have done it,” Frank replied and poked Adam’s chest. “And now let me go to the bathroom because dried jizz is a bitch to get out of long hair.”</p><p>***</p><p>He was, Frank discovered, feeling incredibly smug. Incredibly satisfied with himself. He had been ready to accept defeat, to admit that some things take more time to heal, more attempts to work out, and he had been taken by surprise at how easy it had been. On the other hand it might turn out to not be this easy again; Frank had probably caught his subconscious off guard this time. And maybe they would have to talk about it, but not right now.</p><p>Right now all he wanted was that coffee, and going back to playing human pretzel with Adam Jensen on his sofa.</p><p>Frank gave himself a look in the mirror after he was done toweling his face, and he discovered a smile there that he hadn’t noticed, one that he had never seen there before. He liked that smile. The smile that Adam had put onto his face, somehow.</p><p>Frank tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and headed back to the living room, and Adam, who was waiting for him with a coffee and a smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this was a short chapter, but the next one will be longer than average, promised.</p><p>But here, have some more <a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1330357257318567946">awesome art</a> for this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>See endnotes for more art!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Side by side they drank their coffee in silence; their thighs touching, but without looking at each other. This was all so new it felt almost a little awkward, and neither of them seemed to know how to fill that silence. </p>
<p>Eventually Adam put his empty cup down onto the coffee table and picked up the road map still lying there.</p>
<p>“What kind of plans did you have?”</p>
<p>“Oh, the kind that doesn’t require too much planning,” Frank replied. “I was thinking of getting on my bike and heading for the west coast.”</p>
<p>“Your bike?” Adam looked up with a mildly confused smile. “I thought you weren’t allowed anywhere near SI just yet?”</p>
<p>Frank stared at him for a second until he realised what Adam meant. </p>
<p>“Not that bike,” he said after rolling his eyes. “The Shimaro is a Tron bike.”</p>
<p>“A what?” Adam tilted his head. </p>
<p>“A VR bike,” Frank replied. “Sarif allowed me to build it in the Tech Lab, make use of the tools and resources there. I work on it when I’m off the clock, and it’s almost finished now. The helmet and gloves are done already.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Adam said and looked at the map again. “And the travel plans?”</p>
<p>“Involved a backpack with a bit of underwear and a toothbrush, and hitting the road. No planning, no idea.”</p>
<p>“Just you and the road, hm?” Adam smiled at him now. “Take a walk on the wild side.”</p>
<p>“You could say that.” Frank plucked the map out of his hand. “Don’t know what I would have done in San Francisco either. The journey is the reward.”</p>
<p>“Frank,” Adam said then, and twisted his upper body so he could look at him. “You really don’t have to put this on hold. I’m going to be here when you come back.”</p>
<p>“That’s not the point,” Frank said and dropped the map onto the table again. “The point is that I was getting cabin fever here, but… now I have something more pleasant to occupy myself with than staring at the walls, wondering what kind of hell awaits me in my inbox when I get back to work.”</p>
<p>“I can see that,” Adam said with a smile and slid a little closer. “But when will you get the chance again?” </p>
<p>“It’ll take a while.” Frank shrugged. “But, as I said. I suddenly don’t feel the need to escape my apartment anymore.”</p>
<p>“So, how about…” Adam leaned closer, and the small smile turned into something close to a smirk. “How about you adjust your travel plans? You could, I don’t know, think about not going alone?”</p>
<p>Frank looked up at him, and pulled his left leg under him so he could face him without having to twist at the hip. </p>
<p>“I’m sure there’s a passenger seat in your car,” Adam said then, still smiling. “Unless you prefer to go alone, of course.”</p>
<p>“Here’s the thing,” Frank then said. “I don’t have car. There is no passenger seat. If you really want to come along you’d have to ride bitch with me.” And he couldn’t suppress a smirk. “So you should feel right at home.”</p>
<p>But Adam, bless his toes, didn’t get the joke. “Ride… bitch?” He crossed his arms.</p>
<p>“Jensen…” Frank shook his head with a chuckle. “It’s a bike I’m talking about. A real bike. A motorcycle, if you will. And riding bitch means you’re sitting behind me holding on, and in this case, also wearing a backpack with our stuff.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Adam replied, his facial expression a mix of a smile and a thoughtful frown. “But you would be okay with that?”</p>
<p>“As long as you’re okay with me doing the driving, because I’m not going to let anyone else drive it. Also, you’d have to get yourself a full set of leathers and a helmet.”</p>
<p>“It’s not as if I could get abrasions,” Adam replied with a lopsided smile.</p>
<p>“Maybe not, but your clothes would.” Frank shrugged. “A pair of jeans will not survive even a short slide over tarmac. And while I can proudly say I’ve never crashed my bike before, I would never go out there without protection because as opposed to yours, my limbs will end up spread out over the tarmac in bloody smears should I ever hit the road in the negative sense of the word.”</p>
<p>“I get it,” Adam replied. “Does the leather coat count?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Frank said. “But if we do crash, it will probably be ruined.” </p>
<p>“Then you better not crash us,” Adam said with a smile. </p>
<p>“So,” Frank leaned closer, “are we really doing this?”</p>
<p>“I don’t see why not,” Adam replied, and leaned closer as well, almost closing the distance between them. “I’m on sick leave too, by the way. Two more weeks, in fact. Just as long as you.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Frank looked at Adam’s lips, and back at his eyes. “Sarif seemed very determined for us to kiss and make up after that… disaster.”</p>
<p>“I’m still sorry about that,” Adam muttered, lowering his eyes. </p>
<p>“It’s… it’s over, Adam.” Frank reached out and combed his fingers through Adam’s hair. “And after you explained it, I really could understand why you did it. You’re forgiven, if that’s what you need to hear.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Adam whispered against his lips. “I hadn’t realised I did.”</p>
<p>Instead of trying to grope for words to answer that, Frank just closed the rest of the distance between them. Kissing Adam was still so new it was a thrill that made his whole body tingle and his heart race, and he let himself get lost in the sensations of Adam’s fingers running through his hair, and his other arm pulling him close. </p>
<p>They had been making out for some time, breathing faster, and harder, when suddenly the unmistakable gurgle of a stomach thoroughly broke the mood. </p>
<p>Frank broke the kiss and leaned back with a grin. “Need to fuel up the converters?”</p>
<p>“I…” Adam looked at his hands with a frown. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” Frank replied and took one of his hands. “No offense taken.”</p>
<p>Adam sighed and shook his head. “Still, sorry for spoiling the mood.”</p>
<p>“Shit happens,” Frank replied with a shrug because really, it wasn’t a big deal to him, and neither should it be for Adam. “We’re all human.”</p>
<p>“Partly,” Adam muttered without looking up. </p>
<p>“Partly then, in your case.” Frank tugged at the hand. “You’re still human enough to have a metabolism, so I guess even you have to take a dump every now and then.”</p>
<p>“Oh Francis,” Adam looked up with a dramatic sigh. “I had no idea you could be so romantic.”</p>
<p>Frank gave him a smirk and a one-sided shrug. “I may have been cuddling with you, but I’m still Frank Pritchard. Deal with it.”</p>
<p>Adam huffed out a small chuckle. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He leaned forward, until his breath grazed Frank’s lips.</p>
<p>Frank chuckled softly against Adam’s skin. “I always knew you were a bit of a dumbass.”</p>
<p>“For what?” Now Adam frowned, and tore his eyes away from Frank’s lips.</p>
<p>“For-”</p>
<p>“Having feelings?”</p>
<p>“For-” Frank tried again. </p>
<p>“Having feelings for Frank Pritchard?”</p>
<p>Frank’s hands began to itch, but he couldn’t move them because Adam was holding on to both of them now. “Basically, yes, because-”</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare, Pritchard,” Adam said, his voice a low, husky rumble. “Don’t insult the man I’m in love with.”</p>
<p>And there it was. The L-word. Just oh so casually dropped on him like a bomb, out of nowhere. Just like that.</p>
<p>He couldn’t deal with this. It was too much. Too much, too soon, although when would have been the right time, Frank couldn’t say. He just knew that he was staring back into that fucking abyss made of useless, dangerous feelings, and that he needed to get away from here. </p>
<p>He had thought that after his last crying fit two days ago he was finally done with the bawling, what was the point after all, when Adam was back, when he was here, and they had kissed and made out and even blown each other? What was wrong with him? </p>
<p>“Frank?”</p>
<p>Frank could only shake his head. </p>
<p>“Hey.” </p>
<p>Adam moved closer, wanted to put an arm around him, but Frank shook him off and moved away. He could not, would not, go to pieces in front of Adam for no fucking reason, he could do without the pity and without being weak and useless and pathetic. </p>
<p>“Frank, did I do something wrong?”</p>
<p>“No,” Frank snapped, and moved away until he had reached the end of the sofa. </p>
<p>“But I did, or you wouldn’t be doing this.” Adam sighed. “Talk to me.”</p>
<p>“There is nothing to talk about,” Frank lied. “You can stop already.”</p>
<p>The sound that Adam now made was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “That’s bullshit. You’re turning the tables again, Frank. You didn’t let me go until I talked to you, and I will not let this go until you talk to me about what I did wrong.”</p>
<p>“You did…” Frank bit his lips so hard it hurt, and he was about to draw blood when Adam spoke again.</p>
<p>“Hey.” Adam voice was soft. “Don’t do that.”</p>
<p>The urge to keep himself behind his walls, to keep Adam at a distance so it wouldn’t hurt too much, was fighting the urge to let go and stop fighting all the time. He just didn’t want to bawl again. He had enough of that. There was literally no reason to. Maybe if Adam just let this go for five fucking minutes Frank would be able to calm the fuck down.</p>
<p>“Frank,” Adam tried again, and now Frank wished he would shut up already. “I know you’re still tired. And I know the last weeks were hell for you. I know you, and I know that you must have tried to get me back when I vanished off the grid. And I can’t imagine you went home to sleep on that each night.”</p>
<p>Frank pressed his hands between his knees, because Adam was right, and as much as he wanted to keep himself together, it was pointless to try and lie about that. </p>
<p>“And then the whole shit with Panchaea happened and… Frank, apart from being in a coma for a week, when was the last time you slept a whole night and woke up rested?”</p>
<p>“And what has my sleep schedule to do with anything?” Frank snarled at him. “It’s over! Panchaea and Darrow are gone and you are back! You’re still here, you are alive and… and…”</p>
<p>“And.” Adam nodded with a humourless, crooked smile. “And I was dead to you for almost a week, and then you were there when I actually died, only I didn’t. Then it was you who brought me back and ended up in a coma. Tell me you’re not still exhausted to the bones.”</p>
<p>“I am!” Frank gritted his teeth. “That doesn’t mean I need to put on the weeps all the bloody time because that changes fucking nothing!”</p>
<p>“Maybe it doesn’t, maybe it does.” Adam looked at Frank, a boring glare. “Did you cry at all when you lost me?”</p>
<p>“I did not lose you!” </p>
<p>“You thought you had.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you!” Frank fell back into the sofa, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. But the truth was, he had fought his tears with all his strength, because tears didn’t change anything, they only made you weak. He had fought, with a varying of level success, apart from losing control that one time when Christina somehow had managed to break through his defenses; he still didn’t know why or how she had done it. </p>
<p>And now Jensen was trying to do the same and Frank simply did not want to lose his face like that again, he did not want anyone’s pity, especially not Jensen’s.</p>
<p>“Frank.” Jensen sighed. “People cry when they’re hurt, it’s only human. And if you keep bottling things up like that, then one day you’re gonna burst and hurt yourself, and the people close to you.”</p>
<p>“And who made you the shrink of the day?” Frank barked at him. He kept trying to tell himself that this discussion was pissing him off… but the truth was it was beginning to scare him.</p>
<p>“You’re just proving my point,” Jensen growled back. “Because if I hadn’t hit you where it hurt, why are you sitting as far away from me as you can and growl at me like a wounded animal about to bite me?”</p>
<p>“Get out of my face, Jensen!” </p>
<p>And Jensen… did. He got up from the sofa and walked away from him, his footfalls heavy, like thunder in Frank’s ears. The rustle of heavy leather. The door opening. And then falling shut again. </p>
<p>“Well done, Pritchard,” Frank whispered hoarsely, staring straight ahead with a blurry vision. “Well done, you fucking coward.”</p>
<p>But then something made from heavy fabric dropped to the ground, and heavy steps returned to the sofa. </p>
<p>“What are you still doing here?” Frank asked, without looking up. If he looked at Jensen now, he would break. </p>
<p>“I can’t leave you alone like this,” he replied and sat down. Directly next to Frank. “Because if I do then this is over, and I don’t want that.”</p>
<p>“I told you…” Frank swallowed hard. “I told you to get out of my face.”</p>
<p>“Do you really want that? Do you want this to be over because you don’t want to let yourself cry in front of me?”</p>
<p>“It’s not that!” But it was, wasn’t it? That’s exactly what it was about. </p>
<p>“Then what is it?!” </p>
<p>Jensen grabbed one of Frank’s hand and did not let go, no matter how hard Frank pulled. And if he was being honest with himself, which he rarely was… he wasn’t pulling as hard as he could.</p>
<p>“Do you really believe I will think you’re a weak, pathetic, little pussy for crying? That I’m gonna rub it into your face?” Jensen stared at him, and then he shook his head. “Christ, that’s exactly what you’re thinking.”  </p>
<p>Frank kept staring straight ahead. He did. And he didn’t. </p>
<p>“Frank. Whatever you’re going through, I got you.”</p>
<p>And just like that, he felt himself shatter like a porcelain cup dropped on concrete. </p>
<p>At the edge of his awareness he registered that he was suddenly in Adam’s arms, held tightly against his chest, with Adam pressing his cheek into Frank’s hair. He had no idea how long he had been out like this when he was finally able to stop, had run out of tears, and he felt so wrung out he could hardly breathe. </p>
<p>Being with Adam had been wonderful, but Frank simply hadn’t realised how much tension and pressure still had had their hold on him. So maybe he had been bottling things in too much. Scratch maybe, but he felt so ashamed of himself he couldn’t open his eyes more than a crack before closing them again. </p>
<p>“Fuck… I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw. </p>
<p>“What for?” Adam asked, so gently, so softly, his fingers threaded in Frank’s hair.</p>
<p>“For bawling like a baby and ruining your sweater.”</p>
<p>“Got a washing machine for that. And you clearly needed that.”</p>
<p>“Who needs that,” Frank said, voice pitched with anger and shame.</p>
<p>“You, obviously. As I said, the last few weeks were hell for you, and you never gave yourself a break.”</p>
<p>“And what is a crying fit like this going to change?” Frank asked, still ashamed to the bones. </p>
<p>“It’s called a catharsis,” Adam said, his smile impossibly gentle. “I did pay attention in therapy sometimes.”</p>
<p>Frank had absolutely no idea what to say to that. He only knew that this is where he wanted to stay, in Adam’s arms, who somehow managed to make him feel safe just by existing in the same space. </p>
<p>Eventually he remembered what had caused this disaster though, and he took a deep breath, glad to be able to change the topic. </p>
<p>“You still haven’t fueled up.”</p>
<p>“This was important.”</p>
<p>“And you’re of no use to me if you collapse in front of my eyes.” Frank pushed himself away with a weak attempt at wry smile.  </p>
<p>“Come on,” Adam said, his voice still soft. “Take a shower, it’ll make you feel better. And in the meantime I’m going home to stuff my face with Rice Crispies and Cap’n Crunch, and if you like, I’ll come back here. I’ll even bring an overnight bag if you want me to.”</p>
<p>“I…” Frank swallowed hard. “I’d like that. Very much.”</p>
<p>“There.” Adam leaned forward and dropped a kiss onto Frank’s forehead. “Go shower. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”</p>
<p>“I think… I have a couple Cyberboost bars in the kitchen to tide you over.”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.” Adam got up, and offered Frank a hand, all but pulling him to his feet.</p>
<p>His legs hardly carried him but he still saw Adam to the door. They looked at each other for a moment and then Frank was pulled into the biggest, warmest, tightest embrace he had ever experienced. He slung his arms around Adam’s chest without thinking, and they both held on for a long moment before Adam kissed Frank’s temple, and stepped back. </p>
<p>“In a bit,” he said with a smile.</p>
<p>Frank could only nod. “The door code is seven, six, five, seven,” he then managed. </p>
<p>Adam gave him a beautiful little smile and dropped a small kiss onto his lips. His shades snapped into place, and then he was gone with a dramatic swish of his coat.</p>
<p>Frank closed the door, buried his face in his hands for a moment, and then dragged himself to the bathroom.</p>
<p>The hot water of the shower did wash some of the ache out of his muscles, and he stood under the hot spray for as long as he could.  He even used some conditioner, just to have an excuse he didn’t even need to drag this out a little longer.</p>
<p>He was just leaving the bathroom when he heard the door, and as he entered the living room Adam closed the door behind him, a duffle bag over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Moving in already?” Frank said with a weak attempt at humour. </p>
<p>“Yeah, sorry for that,” Adam said and dropped the bag. “I brought some cereals and my pillow. It’s one of those special, orthopedic things, and I need it or my neck hurts too much in the mornings. Especially when I sleep on sofas.”</p>
<p>“Who said anything about you sleeping on the sofa?” Frank said and crossed his arms. “I do have a queen size bed.”</p>
<p>“Is that an invitation?” Adam asked and stepped closer, resting his hands on Franks hips and pulling him close. </p>
<p>“What does it sound like?” Frank asked in a whisper, just before their lips met, and he felt Adam smile into the kiss. </p>
<p>He let himself get lost in the sensation, and the relief he had not lost this after all. That Adam, the stubborn rock of a man, had not given up on him, and had not let Frank fuck this up. </p>
<p>Adam broke the kiss and smiled, and this time didn’t comment when Frank pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe the wetness off his cheeks. Fucking pansy.</p>
<p><i>Adam would give you a piece of his mind if he heard you say that.</i> </p>
<p>The thought almost made him laugh. </p>
<p>They ordered Chinese for dinner, but because Frank did not have a sweet tooth and drank his coffee ‘as black and bitter as his soul’, there was absolutely nothing sugary in his kitchen. Adam had to top it up with a Cyberboost bar and a few handful of Rice Crispies, and Frank realised he would have to stash up on easily digestible carbohydrates for Adam’s 5000 calorie a day dietary requirements. The energy converters might be very effective, but they had a lot of augmentations to power. </p>
<p>There was another moment of slight awkwardness around bathroom sharing and settling down in the bed, but once Frank had switched off the light he found himself enveloped by a pair of strong polymer arms. They did make out for a bit but Frank was too beat for anything else, which was as well because then Adam didn’t have to feel bad about not getting hard either. </p>
<p>Frank really seemed to have taken his subconscious by surprise with his sudden onslaught, and it would doubtlessly be a long process with relapses. Maybe it would never be as it had been before, but for the first time in his life Frank found himself in a position that he felt sex wasn’t an essential part of this relationship. It still wasn’t easy for him to process all of this, but he was no longer in denial, at least. </p>
<p>A part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, because if things seem to good to be true they usually are: that this man just accepted Frank as he was, with his moods and his attitude and his past and his ugly tattoos, as if nothing of that mattered. That Adam had found, buried in all that garbage, a person he could fall in love with.</p>
<p>The words were there, but he wasn’t able to say them just yet. But at least they were there.</p>
<p><i>I’m in love with you too, Adam.</i> </p>
<p>One day.</p><hr/>
<p>Since Frank didn't have any milk either as he didn’t eat cereals at all Adam had to make do with water for his breakfast, but according to him this wasn’t the first time and he was used to it. </p>
<p>For a small time Frank wasn’t able to meet Adam’s eyes, still feeling somewhat weak and embarrassed from his breakdown the day before. But Adam had been right, in the end. That breakdown, that catharsis, had changed something; he still felt raw and vulnerable, and ashamed, but thinking of all the horrible bullshit of the last weeks didn’t hurt as much anymore. The wounds he had been denying and trying to ignore, they hadn’t healed yet, but now they were cleaned and stitched up, at least. </p>
<p>And then, maybe his mental shields didn’t need to be as thick and as high as before. Or maybe they just needed a door for the right people.</p>
<p>For now he still felt like a hermit crab that had been pulled out of its shell and dropped onto the beach, but somehow he didn’t need to be scared because Adam would keep the seagulls away. </p>
<p>Great, now he also turned into a fucking poet. Next thing he knew he would grow a hipster beard and start a positivity life advice blog on Wordpress.</p>
<p>“Penny for your thoughts?”</p>
<p>That snapped him out of it, and back into the reality of Adam Jensen with a bedhead, smiling at him over the rim of one of Frank’s favourite coffee mugs. “Nothing.” It was the first thing Frank was able to say after a mumbled ‘good morning’ an hour ago. “Seems we have to go on a shopping spree.” </p>
<p>“Shopping spree?” Adam frowned at him. </p>
<p>“Yeah, you know.” Frank shrugged. “Stock up on milk and ridiculous cereals and other high calorie food since you might be staying over again. And we need to get you a set of leathers and a helmet.”</p>
<p>“Still up for the journey to the west coast?”</p>
<p>“And you’re not?” Frank cocked one eyebrow. “I mean if you’re not ready...”</p>
<p>“I was born ready,” Adam replied with a smirk.</p>
<p>“Jensen, you’re a walking cliché sometimes.” </p>
<p>“Its not as if you didn’t know that before, Pritchard.” Adam took a sip of his coffee. </p>
<p>“I did, god help me.”</p>
<p>“He did, because here I am.”</p>
<p>“Jensen, you’re impossible.” </p>
<p>“Impossible,” Adam said and put his cup down, “is not part of my vocabulary, Pritchard.”</p>
<p>Frank snorted and had to chuckle, and Adam joined him a moment later. </p>
<p>Frank’s mood was unexpectedly light when they headed out, and equipping Adam with the gear he needed for the journey made him feel giddy in unfamiliar ways. What was familiar was the feeling of a certain tightness in his pants when he saw Adam’s ass encased in black vintage leather jeans, and he had a hard time tearing his eyes away. And Jensen, that observant asshole, kept that thing on and <i>then</i> put on his leather coat, leaving Frank to deal with the memory of that ass without being able to look at it anymore. </p>
<p>Frank had a very enjoyable time peeling said ass out of the tight leather again that evening, and his enthusiasm was rewarded with success this time, although he didn’t let Adam come all over his face again. Adam didn’t seem to mind, and Frank counted it as a win when Adam reciprocated with equal enthusiasm. </p>
<p>Frank fell asleep easily that night, and woke up as rested as he hadn’t in a very long time. Life suddenly felt very good, he thought as he watched himself while he shaved, and smiling was a lot easier these days. </p>
<p>After breakfast they sat down at the coffee table again, and spent some time looking at the road map, and at motels online on Frank’s phone, before they decided to scrap any planning and just hit the road. Half an hour later Adam was dressed and ready to go, a backpack slung over his shoulder that contained a few pieces of underwear, the most necessary of toiletries, and two boxes of Cyberboost bars. </p>
<p>Frank had, of course, the matching leather pants to his jacket, and when he was fully geared up and looked at Adam again with his helmet under his arm, he could only grin. Adam was looking at him with an empty stare, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. </p>
<p>“What is it, Jensen?”</p>
<p>Adam shook his head, and his shades snapped into place. “Looking good, Francis. Those leathers, they… uh… suit you.”</p>
<p>“That makes two of us,” Frank gave back and stepped closer. “And by the way,” he purred, “you are allowed to use the word sexy if you feel like it.”</p>
<p>Adam huffed out a chuckle. “Hit the bed, or hit the road?”</p>
<p>“When might be the next time we’re both on leave together, Jensen?”</p>
<p>“Get on that bike, Pritchard, I’ll be right behind you.”</p>
<p>Frank was grinning all the way down to the parking garage. </p>
<p>He wasn’t use to sharing the bike and it did take some time to arrange themselves, but eventually he had figured out how to position himself. And thanks to the infolink, he didn’t even have to yell at Adam to make him hear what he had to say through two helmets.</p>
<p>“Ready?”</p>
<p>“I was born-”</p>
<p>“Born ready, Jensen, the joke is getting old.” Frank kicked the engine into life with a grin.</p>
<p>Adam chuckled and rested his hands on Frank’s hips. “Take us out of here, Pritchard.”</p>
<p>“You said it.” Frank resisted the urge to show off and pop a wheelie, because Adam wasn’t used to riding a bike, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t fall off when he did that. Instead he leaned a little forward, and they hit the road out of Detroit some twenty minutes later, heading west.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1330522710867251205?s=20">Find chapter art here!</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They made good way on their first day and took their first break that evening in a small budget motel a few miles before St Louis. Frank kept his eyes on Adam with a small smirk after they had dismounted. He was walking slowly, and sat down on their bed very gingerly. </p><p>“Something wrong?”</p><p>“My ass hurts,” Adam replied, staring darkly ahead. “Guess I was a little tense.”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Frank replied and leaned closer. “Want me to kiss it better?”</p><p>Adam turned his head very, very slowly, until he looked at Frank with very heavy eyelids. “Maybe we shouldn’t try… that… in a dingy motel somewhere. The Sentinel will take care of that for now.”</p><p>“Where’s your sense of adventure, Jensen?” Frank purred and leaned closer because he just loved that expression on Adam’s face. </p><p>But then Adam’s smile softened, and he leaned forward. “Baby steps, Frank,” he whispered against Frank’s lips. “Baby steps.” He dropped a kiss on Frank’s lips, then his cheek, then his temple. “We have time,” he whispered, his breath hot on the shell of Frank’s ear. </p><p>And oh, when he did that Frank felt his insides turn to goo. Happy goo, but still. He was putty in this man’s hands, this husky whisper would be his undoing. Frank closed his eyes with a breathless little laugh. </p><p>“Hmm?</p><p>Adam’s inquisitive little hum tickled Frank’s ear and made him shudder. His ears might be more sensitive than he had hitherto been aware of. </p><p>“Nothing,” Frank whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to give you any more leverage over me than you already have.”</p><p>“My mission, Frank,” Adam whispered against the shell of Frank’s ear, causing another shudder, “is to find all your buttons, but this time not the ones that make you angry.”</p><p>“You’re…” Frank bit his lip for a moment. “You’re doing a real good job, Jensen.”</p><p>“Good.” Adam dropped a kiss just below his ear and slid his fingers under the hem of Frank’s shirt. “And now please take that stupid turtleneck off.”</p><p>Frank wasn’t quite used to that yet; wasn’t sure if he ever would. He was still extremely self-conscious about himself, but he let Adam pull the turtleneck over his head. Immediately after dropping it Adam knelt down on the bed in front of Frank and pulled him into the kiss, as if not wanting to give him time to feel embarrassed. It worked surprisingly well. </p><p>Then Adam pulled back again, and rested his chin on Frank’s shoulder. He craned his head, and let his hands wander down Frank’s back. </p><p>“Can I see that one too?” Adam asked.</p><p>Frank didn’t have to ask what he meant. He pushed himself away, just enough so he could turn around, and presented Adam the snake on his back. This one he wasn’t ashamed of, quite the contrary. It was no highly sophisticated, super-realistic image of a snake, but lifelike enough to not look cartoonish. Venom green with purple eyes, it looped a few times around itself before it buried its fangs into Frank’s back right between the shoulders.</p><p>Adam traced his fingers across the snake, following the curves and loops from the tip of its tail to its head. “Nuclear snake, hm?”</p><p>Frank dropped his head with a chuckle. “Cleverer than that stupid circuit board idea.”</p><p>“I think the idea was clever,” Adam said and moved closer, so their bodies touched, chest to back. “Maybe a bit much, and the execution was poorly.”</p><p>“That’s a polite way of saying it’s stupidly extra, completely over the top, and so shoddy it’s beyond ugly.”</p><p>“You are your own worst critic, Frank.” Adam brushed his lips across the skin of Frank’s bare shoulder. “Don’t be so harsh with your past self.”</p><p>Frank closed his eyes, but lifted his hands over his head so he could thread his fingers into Adam’s hair. “Past Frank was a stupid idiot. At least I learned some humility and self-control.”</p><p>“You did?” Adam brushed his lips across Frank’s shoulder. “Damn.”</p><p>“Be glad you never met him.” Frank closed his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”</p><p>Adam hummed into the skin of Frank’s upper arm, the un-tattooed one. Then he traced his lips back across his shoulder towards his neck.</p><p>Adam didn’t only have the softest hair that Frank had ever touched, his beard too was incredibly soft, and the sensation of the soft scratching and his lips against the sensitive skin of his neck made Frank not only squirm but gasp. </p><p>“You like that,” Adam whispered against the skin of Frank’s neck. </p><p>Frank was too foggy-brained to think of a smart reply.</p><p>Adam went back to Frank’s neck, and at the same time ran a hand down Frank’s bare chest and abdomen. He continued what his lips were doing when he rested his hand on Frank’s crotch in simultaneously firm and gentle pressure, and Frank arched his back on sheer reflex, bucking into the touch.</p><p>“If you’re planning to... to make me come into my... pants,” Frank said in a stuttering whisper, “then please don’t. If I come into these leather pants they’re gonna be… gonna be ruined…”</p><p>Adam did remove his hand but not his lips, and Frank was wondering now if he could really come like this because his whole body was tingling. He didn’t get to finish that train of thought, however, because at that moment the couple next door started shouting at each other. Vile insults flew back and forth, and then a door slammed. </p><p>“Maybe not in a dingy motel after all,” Frank managed after catching his breath. “I think the walls are a bit thin here.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Adam whispered, making Frank shudder again, but lean back sit up. </p><p>“Dibs on the shower,” Frank muttered as pushed himself towards the edge of the bed, and pulled his hair out of the ponytail that their short making out session had thoroughly messed up. </p><p>“We could… share?” Adam asked with a small smile</p><p>Frank took a deep breath, and then shook his head. Adam looked confused, and then absolutely crestfallen, but Frank didn’t want that so he leaned forward to kiss the frown off his face. </p><p>“That’s another thing we should first try in the safety of home,” he muttered against Adam’s lips because yes, for the first time in almost eight years the thought of sharing a shower did not make him recoil. He didn’t know if he would be able to enjoy it, but he felt finally safe enough to try. </p><p>Adam buried his fingers into Frank’s hair and pulled him into another kiss, but they did not let that escalate any further. Not in a cheap motel where you could hear the person next door open a can of beer and belch like a walrus.</p>
<hr/><p>Adam complained a little about a sore neck the next morning, and Frank spent a few minutes giving him a massage, though the Sentinel would have taken care of that on its own. It had looked casual, but Frank had not missed the tension in Adam’s shoulders when he had pulled his shirt off. </p><p>Frank made no comment however and focused on digging his thumbs into the rock hard muscles at the base of Adam’s skull. He wanted to make absolutely sure that Adam knew he wasn’t bothered by the level of augmentation, and he leaned forward with his chest against Adam’s back to tell him as much, and whispered it into his ear.</p><p>Adam reached around his shoulder and took one of Frank’s hands, entwined their fingers and pulled it in front of his chest. “So I’m beginning to understand,” he muttered. “And eventually my subconscious will start believing it as well.”</p><p>Frank dropped a kiss onto Adam’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to say, but sometimes deeds speak louder than words.</p><p>“I just wish I could get rid of the typhoon ports too,” Adam muttered after a while. </p><p>“Can’t they remove it again?”</p><p>Adam shook his head. “They can’t. I asked.”</p><p>Frank kissed Adam’s other shoulder. “Who did you ask? Sarif, or Marcovic?”</p><p>A moment of hesitation. “Sarif,” Adam replied then, his voice lowering. </p><p>“Then maybe ask her once we’re back in Detroit. I’m sure she’s more qualified than Sarif to make that evaluation.”</p><p>“I might,” Adam asked, and lifted their joined hands to kiss one of Frank’s knuckles. “What would I do without you, Frank.”</p><p>“You’d be lost the minute you step out of your door,” Frank replied, and dropped another kiss onto Adam’s shoulder. “Let’s get breakfast.”</p>
<hr/><p>They took a detour around San Pablo Bay to approach San Francisco from the north-west instead of heading straight west on the I-80, because Frank wanted to enter the city via the Golden Gate Bridge. If you’re going to San Francisco might as well get the whole experience. Minus the flowers in your hair. </p><p>Before they crossed the bridge however they parked the bike at one of the many parking lots for one of the many viewpoints, and found themselves a spot at Kirby Cove Beach. Frank sat down at the bottom of the slope, and Adam sank to the ground right behind him, so Frank could lean back and use his chest as a backrest. The looked across the bay at the bridge, and neither of them said a word for a very long time. </p><p>The sun began to set, with golden rays breaking through the clouds that painted a glittering pattern onto the waves. </p><p>Adam sighed. “I don’t want to go back to Detroit,” he said in a low voice.</p><p>“Not just yet, or not at all?” Frank asked without looking up. </p><p>“Not at all,” Adam replied, and rested his hands on Frank’s shoulders. “After all the things I found out during the last months… Sarif may have saved my life back then, but I often wondered if it was worth it.”</p><p>Frank swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “I guess that’s a question only you can answer,” he said, his voice a little rough. </p><p>Adam moved his hands from Frank’s shoulders down and forward, crossed them on Frank’s chest, and pulled him back so he was resting snugly against Adam’s body. </p><p>“The answer to that was ‘no’ more often than not, during that time,” Adam replied in a low, husky voice. “Especially after I realised how deeply Megan betrayed me.”</p><p>Frank narrowed his eyes, and kept looking at a seagull bobbing on the waves. “How so?”</p><p>Adam took a deep breath. “I told you about those experiments,” he said then. “About my DNA, and stuff, remember?”</p><p>Frank nodded. </p><p>“And she knew that, Frank. I needed some clues to put it together, but I eventually did. When I was investigating her death I found a letter where she wrote that her groundbreaking research during the last two years happened when she found the right DNA. That was the time we got together.”</p><p>Having no idea what to say, Frank listened to Adam’s low, gravelly voice, sharp with pain and betrayal. </p><p>“In her office I found another one,” Adam went on. “About Patient X. The one with the extraordinary DNA. I should have suspected something back then. Patient X was male, was of my exact age and had my exact blood type. And when I finally found Megan in Singapore, she admitted that she used my DNA. And it was her who asked Sarif to hire me. And Sarif did that background check, discovered the mess with White Helix Labs – but maybe he knew that already before, from Megan. And not only did he hire me, he also put that clause into my contract. I didn’t think much of it at that time, I just thought it could be handy if I get shot real bad. I’ve been their guinea pig all the time, Frank, from the very beginning. She broke up with me shortly before Sarif hired me, too. Guess it was easier for her to run experiments on me when I wasn’t her boyfriend anymore.”</p><p>Frank was at a loss for words, and also felt an almost unmanageable anger well up inside him. He had been angry back then, during the moment in the Tech Lab, but it turned out that Adam had been fucked over more thoroughly and for much longer than either of them had been able to imagine. </p><p>“Yeah, I can see why you don’t like the thought of working for him anymore,” Frank said eventually, and wondered, for a moment, if he would have had the grace to save Sarif from Panchaea had he been in Adam’s shoes. “And also… why you stopped being so obsessed with Megan Reed. You followed that woman around like a puppy sometimes. And then…” he gestured helplessly into the empty air before him. </p><p>“Then I realised what I was doing… that I didn’t want her back, but that I wanted answers,” Adam said and nuzzled the top of Frank’s head. “And at the same time, that there was someone who still treated me like a person, not like some sort of sub-human or freak, or lab rat for that matter. Someone who’d never use me. It made… working there a lot easier.”</p><p>“I’m flattered,” Frank replied with the ghost of a smile. “Also, I’m glad we stopped hating each other’s guts.”</p><p>“Me too.” Adam heaved a heavy sigh. “But one single co-worker doesn’t really balance out a ton of shit. But despite all the bickering, I was glad I had you there, at my back. I could always blindingly trust you. It made me realise that,” he shrugged, and groped for words for a moment, “as much as an asshole you could be, you never lied to me.” </p><p>“Apart from that… neuropozyne mess,” Frank muttered with a sting of discomfort.”</p><p>“Don’t think I wouldn’t have done the same thing.” Adam tightened his hold for a moment. “Fact is, you were hiding a good guy behind all that sarcasm. Megan told me she loved me so many times, and now I wonder when it started to become a lie, or if it was ever the truth.”</p><p>“I guess it’s easier to get over someone who betrays you, but the human mind works in mysterious and completely illogical ways.” </p><p>“I completely admit I was still thinking a little bit with my dick sometimes, before that lab incident. I was in love with her, you know. But… she already hurt me before I found out all the shit she did to me. You on the other hand were always an asshole, but you were an extremely honest asshole and you would never have back-stabbed me. I… learned to appreciate you.”</p><p>“Flattered,” Frank muttered again with a wry grin. “But I have to admit, I never liked her. I don’t know why, but she rubbed me the wrong way left, right, and center.”</p><p>“Then did you ogle her butt and legs to annoy her?” Adam asked, sounding mildly amused. “I didn’t know back then you’re gay. Or… do you go both ways?”</p><p>“I don’t. And I didn’t ogle her legs to get on <i>her</i> nerves but on <i>yours</i>, Jensen. We did have a pushing-the-wrong-buttons competition, remember?”</p><p>“I remember.” Adam shook his head with a sigh. “And I thought I got along with most of the staff but once I was like this… I was like a leper. A freak. A monster. Something to be afraid of, or be disgusted by. The only time I felt still human was with you.”</p><p>Frank wasn’t sure what to say. He had always made a point to not get on friendly terms with anyone anyway, so could not understand what Adam had lost, because he couldn’t relate. Additionally it was hard for him to grasp that him being the asshole he had always been was the one thing that Adam had appreciated about him.</p><p>In terms of heartbreak he did have his own experiences of course, but a betrayal of that scale was unimaginable. And yet, somehow, Adam had dared to fall in love again so soon, and here they were. </p><p>Frank wanted to steer into safer waters again, so he went back to the beginning. “So… if not Sarif Industries… do you have plans?”</p><p>Adam huffed out an angry sigh. “What kind of plans could that be? Apply for a position as security chief with another company? After Sarif Industries was attacked and bombed and almost burned down on my watch, before I almost got myself killed in a completely fruitless attempt of trying to save anyone? Yeah, good luck with that.”</p><p>“But the security breach wasn’t your fault,” Frank replied, though he knew he didn’t sound very comforting. He understood perfectly well.</p><p>“And who gives a shit about that?” Adam growled.</p><p>“I do,” Frank said with a mirthless chuckle. “But that doesn’t make  one fuck of a difference.”</p><p>“It does, though,” Adam replied and tightened his hold for a moment. “Maybe not on the large scale, but to me, it matters that you know.”</p><p>Frank took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I blamed you for not being able to save anyone, back when you showed up at work again.”</p><p>“It’s okay, though,” Adam replied, his voice gentler than before. “I was thinking the same thing, so me lashing out wasn’t entirely fair.”</p><p>Frank dropped his head back against Adam’s shoulder, and enjoyed for a moment the sensation of the soft beard brushing against his temple. </p><p>“Maybe you could go freelance and establish your own private security company,” he said after a few minutes of thoughtful silence. “And I’m not saying this as a joke.”</p><p>“It’s worth thinking about,” Adam replied, equally thoughtful. “And what about you?”</p><p>Frank shrugged, and turned his head a little. He still couldn’t look at Adam’s face like this, but now he at least spoke into his direction, sort of. He was just too comfortable leaning against him  like this. </p><p>“I don’t know,” he said then. “I don’t like working for someone who fucks his own employees over like that, but… I owe that man everything, Adam. He bailed me out of jail, paid for a lawyer, and I am pretty sure he pulled a few strings so the charges were dropped. He offered me that job, with a solid paycheck, healthcare and everything. He also paid for the augments I have.”</p><p>“Cranial implants?” </p><p>“Hm. Hacking device, among others.”</p><p>“And did you want them?” Adam rubbed his cheek against Frank’s forehead.</p><p>“Not really, but I knew that they would make me better at my job, and I wanted to do the best job I could. So I said yes.” Frank sighed. “At least I never regretted them.”</p><p>“One could probably say,” Adam said after a long, thoughtful moment, “that after seven years of constant overtime and being on stand-by twenty-four-seven your… debt… has been paid.”</p><p>“Possibly.” Frank had pondered that thought lately. Knowing what he knew now, he should give it some more consideration. </p><p>Another moment of silence passed that was only disturbed by the soft gushing of the waves and the hollering of a seagull. </p><p>“We could…” Adam began and rubbed his cheek against Frank’s forehead again. “We could build that security company together. On-site security and cyber-security. Comprehensive solutions by JPSS.” He chuckled, a soft snort. “Jensen and Pritchard Security Systems.”</p><p>“It has a certain ring to it,” Frank replied with a chuckle of his own. “So you provide the muscle, and I the brains?”</p><p>“Sure, just like the good old times.” Adam huffed out a gentle laugh. “Why not?”</p><p>Why not, indeed. It doesn’t hurt to have dreams. It only hurts to have them shattered. But Frank didn’t want to think about any of this anymore.</p><p>They fell silent then, and Frank leaned back into the strong, broad chest at his back, and Adam’s embrace. The blindingly white patterns on the waves turned into drifting slivers of gold as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon, and for some reason Frank felt a sigh escape him that he couldn’t quite explain. Adam’s arms tightened a little more around him, and Frank closed his eyes. </p><p>Frank Pritchard was high-strung and extremely tense person at the best of times; he did not do well when idle, and having nothing to do quickly drove him up the walls. He could simply never relax, and the closest he got was when he was gaming and didn’t need to think about anything else than his mouse buttons or the game controller. </p><p>What he felt right now was difficult to identify, and it would have been near impossible to put it into words. He was sitting impossibly still but felt no urge to pick at his fingers or at a fold of clothing. He was listening to the waves and the wind and Adam’s breathing, in his nose the smell of seawater and Adam’s cologne. His mind wasn’t stuck in lines of code or doing mental troubleshooting for one problem or another that always followed him home from work. </p><p>And right now, right here, in this small bubble of time, everything was right. He was content.</p><p>He was…</p><p>He was at peace. </p><p>“Hey,” Adam whispered softly, and one of his fingers gently touched Frank’s cheeks, dabbing at the drop of moisture.. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Frank said and shook his head. “I’m… nothing is wrong. You just turn me into a bucket full of emotional sap sometimes, Jensen.”</p><p>“And is that a bad thing?” Adam muttered under his breath. “I think that even you can’t be a sarcastic, cynical menace all the time, Pritchard.”</p><p>Frank closed his eyes and leaned against Adam’s chest. The wind had messed with his hair on their way down here, and now Adam reached out with one hand, and gently tucked one of the teetering strands behind Frank’s ear.</p><p>Frank shuddered, and turned his head so his face rested against the side of Adam’s neck. And then it was there, just like that, without him having made a conscious decision about it. He had taken a leap of faith. And he had landed safely.</p><p>“I’m in love with you too, Adam,” he whispered. </p><p>Adam tensed, then he tightened his hold again, and let go only to pull Frank closer by the shoulders. Their kiss was soft, and tender, and Adam’s cool polymer fingers were gentle on Frank’s cheek. </p><p>It was all the answer he needed. It was all the answer he wanted. It was easy to stop thinking, and Frank did, and they kissed until their were so short of breath they had to take a break. </p><p>“I could never have imagined you’re such a good kisser, Jensen,” Frank muttered into the small space between their faces. </p><p>“I’m a man of many talents. I thought you’d know that by now.”</p><p>“Oh, goodie,” Frank said with a lopsided smirk. “And here I was already afraid you’d become humble or something.”</p><p>“Shut up and kiss me again, Pritchard.”</p><p>Frank closed his eyes and did just that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1331236650848985090?s=20">More Art!</a> Again! I am the happiest writer ever!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So, this is it, thanks for taking the ride with me! There's a tiny little epilogue after this, but the story is over now. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! Take care! (And drink a glass of water.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My thanks to my husband who wrote that nerd conversation for me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After San Francisco Frank and Adam had agreed that they both still needed a little personal space every now and then, and Adam had returned to his apartment that day.</p>
<p>They made it all of two nights, before Adam knocked at Frank’s door on the third morning with a bag of rolls and pastries, and Adam hadn’t slept in his own apartment since. His apartment was larger, more spacious and technically more suitable for two people, but Adam said he didn’t like the place, it was too empty, too cavernous, the ceilings too high and the windows too tall, and in general the place held no good emotions for him.</p>
<p>So by and by, more and more of his clothing and books began to migrate into Frank’s apartment, more toiletries and different kinds of medication appeared in the bathroom, and a whole cabinet in the kitchen was now dedicated to cereals, candy bars, and a variety of Cyberboost products.</p>
<p>And so they arrived at Sarif Industries together on their first day back to work, of course.</p>
<p>Frank hesitated for a moment in front of the door.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” Adam said in a low voice. “You’re not one who’s in for a lot of public physical affection. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“I’m not, not really,” Frank replied, but then looked up at Adam again. “But you’re not my dirty little secret either.”</p>
<p>A slow, warm smile appeared on Adam’s face as Frank held out his hand, and with their hands clasped and their fingers entwined, they entered the lobby side by side.</p>
<p>A few people outright stared, but Frank squared his shoulders and tightened his hold on Adam’s hand. He had never much cared what people thought of him, and he wouldn’t start now.</p>
<p>“Do I have something on my face?” he snapped at the first person they passed in the atrium, a woman who happened to stare at them especially rude. Several other people immediately pretended to look elsewhere.</p>
<p>“What? No, I…” She tried to smile. “I just…”</p>
<p>“Strange, I thought there was a reason you were staring at me, you know?” Frank narrowed his eyes at her.</p>
<p>Then he noticed that she was now staring at their joined hands.</p>
<p>“Oh, is it this?” Frank lifted that hand, pulling Adam’s hand up as well. “I found this on my ass this morning and decided to keep it.”</p>
<p>She spluttered, and hastily walked away. Several people around them snickered until Frank glared them into silence, daring them to say something dumb as well. They all knew Pritchard, so of course no one did.</p>
<p>“You are trying very hard not to laugh,” Frank muttered under his breath as they mounted the stairs.</p>
<p>“What gave you the idea,” Adam said, gritting his teeth so hard it had to hurt. To his credit, his voice was almost, almost level. “But I don’t have to remove my arm so you can park it on your desk, do I?”</p>
<p>“Since that thing can’t pet my hair when I do that you might as well keep it, Jensen.”</p>
<p>He did have a small moment of hesitant apprehension when Adam dropped him off at the Tech Lab, but he took one look at Adam’s face before he leaned forward for a short, almost chaste kiss. “I’ll see you at lunch.”</p>
<p>Adam reached out and squeezed his arm before he turned around and headed for the stairs. Frank smiled to himself on his way to his desk, but stopped when he sat down. Someone had used his workspace in his absence, of course, and the desk was a mess of paperwork and post-it notes, and the trash bin was half filled with candy wrappers and stank of artificial fruit flavouring. Frank found a few more candy wrappers while tidying up, and he switched his computer on with a heavy sigh of despair. His mouse was sticky. He wanted to go home already.</p>
<p>Someone knocked at the door frame, and Frank looked up with a deepening frown.</p>
<p>It was Malik sticking her head into the Tech Lab, with a grin that could have split her head in half.</p>
<p>“Did you just kiss Adam Jensen? On the mouth?”</p>
<p>“Not that it’s your business, but yes,” Frank replied, a small flutter in his stomach.</p>
<p>“Nice,” Malik said, her grin impossibly wide. “That nets me five hundred credits.”</p>
<p>“It does what?” Frank stared at her.</p>
<p>“Oh, we had a betting pool, and I was the only one who said that you’d be together once your sick leave is over.”</p>
<p>“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Frank didn’t know if he should be furious or amused, or both.</p>
<p>“Take care, Frank!” And gone she was.</p>
<p>“Betting pool,” Frank said darkly, but without much heat.</p>
<p>Then he opened his inbox.</p>
<p>“Should have gone to Paris and hole up there,” he muttered, and dragged a hand down his face.</p>
<p>Not five minutes later someone stumbled into his office.</p>
<p>“Pritchard! Thank god you’re back!”</p>
<p>Frank took a deep, deep breath. “Myers?”</p>
<p>“You gotta help me! I locked myself out of the data base somehow and I need those numbers!” Myers clutched a stack of paper to his chest.</p>
<p>“You did what?” Frank closed his eyes. “Again?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m… look, I really need that data! I’m running out of time!” Myers dropped a sheet, and hastily picked it up again.</p>
<p>“Then you should pay more attention to your passwords, Myers.” Frank opened up the password recovery routine with a shake of his head.</p>
<p>“I already changed it four times to something I can remember but I never do! It’s not as if I could-” He broke off, and his face went bright red. “Set it to one, two, three, four, right?”</p>
<p>Frank rested his elbow on the desk and buried his face in his palm.</p>
<p>“Myers, I swear… if someone took every village idiot and put them all into one village, then in that village,” he looked up at Myers again, “you would be the village idiot.”</p>
<p>“Jeez, Pritchard, no need to get so-”</p>
<p>“Now if you will excuse me,” Frank said as sharply as he could, “I have the mess of other village idiots to clean up.” He looked at his screen again without wasting another thought on Myers. “Or office idiots, in this case.”</p>
<p>It was going to be a long, long day.</p><hr/>
<p>Late November in Detroit was gloomy and depressing at the best of times, especially when wet snow was mixed into the wind and turned to dirty slurry on the roads and sidewalks.</p>
<p>Christmas decorations were in place everywhere by now but they could do little against the general darkness and the gloom, and the fact that the weather turned absolutely foul didn’t help either.</p>
<p>Three months had passed since the Incident, and while the waves still hadn’t calmed yet, and likely never would, the world had not turned against augmented people, as Frank had feared.</p>
<p>Life had gone on, albeit with a few massive improvements for him.</p>
<p>He was apprehensive, as he stared at himself in the mirror. He had sort of seen it during the treatment, of course, but as he looked into the mirror now, his reflection frowned at him with tight lips.</p>
<p>“Frank?” Adam entered the bathroom, and came to halt behind him. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>“Nothing, as such. I’m just…”</p>
<p>“Just take that stupid turtleneck off already.” Adam shoved his hands under the hem of Frank’s shirt.</p>
<p>Frank closed his eyes and lifted his arms, and once Adam had discarded the shirt, he opened his eyes.</p>
<p>“Feel better?” Adam muttered as he stepped closer.</p>
<p>Frank could only nod. After so many years of hating his mirror image, looking at himself now felt strange, but he also felt unbelievably relieved. He shuddered as Adam traced a gentle finger over the snake on his back, following the curves of the snake’s body, and their eyes met in the mirror for a moment.</p>
<p>“Can I carry you to bed?” Adam asked in a husky voice.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not, I’m not your bride.” Frank watched a smile appear on Adam’s face.</p>
<p>“I could use a fireman carry,” Adam offered, and Frank snorted out a soft chuckle.</p>
<p>“Answer is still no, Jensen. Are you in a hurry?”</p>
<p>“I’m always in a hurry to get my hands on you, Pritchard.”</p>
<p>“Then off to the bed you go, Jensen.” Frank stared for another moment at his mirror image. “I’ll be right behind you.”</p>
<p>Adam gave Frank’s ass a squeeze before he spun around to head for the bed. Frank cast the mirror one last look, one last sweep of his eyes across the skin of his chest and abdomen, unblemished and clean. Then he tore his eyes away, and followed Adam to the bed.</p>
<p>It didn’t always work out as they planned, or hoped, but by now it worked out about as many times as it didn’t. They had learned to live with it, and didn’t let that stop them from trying although they might end up drinking coffee instead, or cuddling.</p>
<p>Frank had gotten very good at cuddling by now. He practiced on an almost daily basis.</p><hr/>
<p>They were torn out of an increasingly heated make-out session by the persistent ringing of Frank’s phone. But since it was the ringtone he had set for Christina, Frank eventually peeled himself away to answer it.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said, maybe a little sharper than he wanted. And maybe a little breathless too, because he could hear Christina grin.</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m sorry Frank, did I interrupt something?”</em>
</p>
<p>“N... yes,” Frank replied, and she laughed softly.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Sorry. But now that I have your attention, I wanted to ask if you and Adam want to come over on Christmas Eve for dinner? And I promise I take no offense if you say no. Three overexcited kids are a lot to handle for someone who isn’t used to them. Well, two mostly, but that can be enough.”</em>
</p>
<p>Frank lowered the phone and turned around. “Christina wants us to come over for dinner on Christmas Eve.”</p>
<p>Adam sat up straight with a smile. “It’s not as if we have a family we have to be with.”</p>
<p>“She has three kids.”</p>
<p>“I doubt that they’ll try to kill us.”</p>
<p>“So that’s a yes?”</p>
<p>Adam nodded, and Frank lifted the phone again. “When should we be there?”</p>
<p><em>“Wonderful!”</em> Her voice was honestly exited.<em> “Make it five-ish, if you want to have some coffee and some goodies. If not, aim for something between six and seven.”</em></p>
<p>“Good. I’ll see you on Thursday.”</p>
<p>Frank ended the call and dropped his phone back onto the table.</p>
<p>“Now, where were we?” he purred as he climbed into Adam’s lap.</p>
<p>“I think we were at the part where you were shoving your hands into my underwear,” Adam replied, heavy-lidded and smiling.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes.” Frank leaned forward with a grin, and went back to where they had been interrupted.</p><hr/>
<p>Frank rang the doorbell with some apprehension, and wondered why he was feeling so nervous. He had had a few coffees with Christina in the cafeteria after his return from sick leave so it shouldn’t be a big deal, but he felt nervous about meeting the kids. He didn’t like kids in general, but according to Christina hers would worship the ground he’d walk on. He could probably handle one evening with three screaming, complaining little chaos-monsters.</p>
<p>Christina opened the door with a wide, welcoming smile. “Come in! Don’t mind the mess!”</p>
<p>The mess was a vast collection Lego pieces spread across the living room carpet, and two kids who were yelling at each other in what was probably a game involving a few of those, and a few Lego men. A teenage boy was sitting on the sofa, staring at his phone.</p>
<p>“Look who’s here!” Christina hollered, and the kids fell silent, looking up. Then they both hopped onto their feet.</p>
<p>“Frank! It’s Frank!” they both all but screamed, and Frank found himself, or rather, his legs and his hips, enveloped by two pairs of small, thin arms. He looked around and at Christina with a trace of mild panic.</p>
<p>“Michael! Sarah! Back off!” Christina said with a laugh.</p>
<p>The kids let go but didn’t go back to their game, and the boy, who had to be the creator of that picture, was staring at Frank as if he was having a vision from god.</p>
<p>“Did you fight another virus in cyberspace?”</p>
<p>“I-” Frank began.</p>
<p>“Do you have a cyberspace gun? Can you build a cyberspace gun? Can you program one?”</p>
<p>“You don’t-”</p>
<p>“It’s called coding! I learned that! Mama gave me a book about internet coding! H-ref is a link and I-M-G is for images!”</p>
<p>“That’s-”</p>
<p>“Can I work in cyberspace too when I’m old?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you can.” Frank cast a look at Adam who was firmly stroking a hand down his chin.</p>
<p>“Michael,” Christina said. “Take a breath and let our guests sit down.”</p>
<p>The girl asked her a question in German.</p>
<p>“English, please,” her mother said. “It’s rude to speak a language our guests can’t understand.”</p>
<p>“Are you going to eat with us?” the youngest now asked Frank. She, too, looked at Frank as if he was a divine apparition.</p>
<p>“We do,” Frank replied, and cast a helpless look at Christina.</p>
<p>It was then that the two spotted Adam; the teenage boy had only acknowledged their arrival with a muttered ‘hi’ and a smile, and had paid no further attention. But now the two other kids gave Adam a once over.</p>
<p>The girl, Sarah, who was seven, if Frank remembered correctly, looked at Adam’s hands. “Are those plastic?”</p>
<p>“Sort of,” Adam replied. “I have two augmented arms.”</p>
<p>“So you don’t have to use oven mitts?”</p>
<p>Frank couldn’t suppress a snort.</p>
<p>“I do,” Adam said, flexing his fingers. “They can feel the same things real hands do. But I can punch through walls.”</p>
<p>“Cool,” the girl said, and looked at Frank again. “Mama has a new biochip now, so she wont go crazy again with the other people. Can you fix that too?”</p>
<p>“I… won’t have to,” Frank said, and cleared his throat. “I-”</p>
<p>“Can you build chips?” Michael asked, eyes still wide. “Do you play games? Do you have a computer? Or do you go into cyberspace?”</p>
<p>“Enough,” Christina said. “Off to your room.”</p>
<p>“Mama!”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Ab!”</em>
</p>
<p>The two slunk into their room, while the teenager left the couch.</p>
<p>Hey, Frank,” he said in passing, and looked up from his phone to smile at Frank. “Thanks for saving my mom. You’re a real hero.”</p>
<p>“Nothing of the sort.”</p>
<p>The boy shrugged and vanished into another room, looking at his phone again.</p>
<p>“Welcome!” Christina said again, brightly. “Make yourself at home, since you’re already adopted!”</p>
<p>Frank shook his head with a slightly despairing smile.</p>
<p>“You definitely have a fan club,” Christina replied. “Come on, let’s have a coffee.”</p>
<p>There was a vast collection of Christmas cookies, all traditional German recipes. Frank tried one although he really didn’t like sweet things but didn’t want to be impolite, but Christina assured him she took no offense, since Adam was eating enough for the two of them.</p>
<p>Adam looked up from his seventh cookie, shrugged with a crooked grin, and helped himself to another one, working through the assortment with single-minded determination.</p>
<p>After dinner, Frank and Adam had to entertain themselves for about an hour while Christina and James were wrangling the kids to bed. There had been home-made filled chocolates for dessert, and watching him, Frank had the feeling that Adam had died and gone to heaven. He was still making love to another plate of those while they waited, and Frank watched him with a smile. A shame he didn’t have much talent in the kitchen, or he would ask Christina for the recipe. Maybe he would anyway, for a chance to see that kind of smile on Adam’s face again.</p>
<p>Once bedtime was accomplished they settled down in the living room after James had opened a bottle of wine.</p>
<p>“Well,” Christina said after the first sip of wine. “I’m sorry if the kids were a bit much. We did have a talk, before, that they were not to assault you, but that didn’t work as well as I hoped for.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Frank enjoyed being the center of attention for once.” Adam took a sip of wine with a grin.</p>
<p>“While you are not used to being ignored,” Frank shot back with a grin of his own. “You even have to use oven mitts. How boring is that?”</p>
<p>“I can still punch holes into walls.”</p>
<p>“How clever,” Frank gave back, and took a sip of wine.</p>
<p>James now joined the conversation. “So, how long have you two been married after you stopped hating each other?”</p>
<p>Frank had no idea what his face did, but Christina burst out laughing.</p>
<p>“James, this isn’t an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers fanfic!”</p>
<p>“Not?” James asked with a smirk.</p>
<p>Frank crossed his arms. “And if it were, I’d like to have a few choice words with the writer, that moronic asshole.”</p>
<p>Christina snorted and shook her head.</p>
<p>“How are your cyberspace adventures coming along, Frank?” James asked then with a grin. “Killed any viruses lately?”</p>
<p>“A lot, at work, but not with a handgun.” Frank shook his head. “That boy has a very lively imagination.”</p>
<p>“He also has his nose and ears everywhere when the topic is gaming,” James replied. “He wants to build computers too when he’s grown.”</p>
<p>“Like father, like son,” Christina shot in with a wink.</p>
<p>“You build computers too?” Frank asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, but not professionally. I’ve always built my own PCs, mostly for gaming, though. I probably still could set up a network in DOS 6.2 in my sleep. You know, after hauling a car boot full of PCs to a friend’s house for three days of Command &amp; Conquer 1 and Duke Nukem.”</p>
<p>Frank leaned forward, all thoughts of kids falling from his mind. “Been there from the beginning?”</p>
<p>“You could say that. Almost. My first computer was an Amiga 500.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Frank felt a smile grow on his face. “I have one of those too, for a few vintage games. Mint condition.”</p>
<p>James smiled. “Oh, I see you’re a man of culture,” he said and cleared his throat. “Well.” He smirked. “This is the Avalon 1, drifting through the outer reaches of the known universe.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” Frank said, tapping his lower lip before pointing at James with a smug grin. “Turrican 2. That is how you make a soundtrack.”</p>
<p>“Totally addictive, yeah.”</p>
<p>“See, I’m more into racing games,” Frank said. “Remember Lotus Turbo Challenge?”</p>
<p>“In split-screen mode against a friend? Heh. You have it? We should totally do that some time. I’ll go easy on you.”</p>
<p>Frank gave James a long look and narrowed his eyes. “Challenge accepted, old man.”</p>
<p>Christina looked back and forth between Frank and her husband a few times, and then looked at Adam. “I think there are a few cinnamon stars left, no use in letting them go to waste.”</p>
<p>“It’s a grim duty,” Adam replied and got up to follow her towards the dining table, “but one does what one must.”</p>
<p>Frank grinned at him, but quickly looked back at James.</p>
<p>James smiled at him. “Considering your work is cyber security, that would have been an interesting time for you. I think it was years before I played a game that wasn’t cracked but actually bought. I mean, the crackers even added their own trailer and tags to the pirated games.”</p>
<p>“Would absolutely have done that,” Frank replied with a grin. “Copy protection is a challenge, not a deterrence.”</p>
<p>“Thought as much. For me, legal gaming started on the Atari ST my dad bought. It even had a harddisk that weighed two kilos, sounded like a turbine and had a grand total of 20MB capacity.”</p>
<p>Frank raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”</p>
<p>James shook his head with a grin. “Those were the days…”</p>
<p>The hour was late when the two ran out of topics, and once James had opened another bottle of wine and had poured the each a glass, Christina looked at Frank with a small sigh.</p>
<p>“I have kind of bad news, by the way. Or not bad, maybe a little sad.”</p>
<p>Frank gave her a worried look.</p>
<p>“James has been offered a full time teaching job,” she went on, “at the University of Dublin. We’ll be leaving Detroit at the end of January, and go back to Europe.”</p>
<p>“Well.” Frank took a sip. “That’s great for you, though.”</p>
<p>“It is, but… I’m going to miss the friends I made here.” Christina looked into her glass with a sad smile. “And the kids will, too. I know they’re going to adjust, as will we. But… it’s always hard, tearing up your roots. I was hoping I didn’t have to do it again.”</p>
<p>Frank didn’t know what to say and took a sip of wine. He would miss her a little, he knew that much. But he also knew how much she had missed her family, and while Dublin wasn’t Germany, it was a lot closer and a lot easier to get from one place to another.</p>
<p>It was close to midnight now and it had stopped snowing, so Adam and Frank decided it was a good moment to call it a day and head home.</p>
<p>After putting on his jacket and shoes, Frank turned around to Christina again.</p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you, Frank,” she said, her eyes misting over.</p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you too,” Frank replied, and it wasn’t a lie. “It was refreshing to have at least one co-worker who has her IT skills in order.”</p>
<p>She shrugged with a slightly teary smile. “I could do without another workplace where the first thing I have to do is transferring tables from MS Word that someone filled in with a calculator, into Excel.”</p>
<p>“I really feel for you,” Frank replied and shook his head.</p>
<p>Christina sighed and opened her arms. Frank hesitated for a moment, but then he stepped forward.</p>
<p>“I thought you don’t hug,” she said, a little bit cheeky and a little bit sad.</p>
<p>“I don’t, I’m just doing you a favour. Enjoy it while it lasts.”</p>
<p>They hugged for a moment, and Frank patted her arm after letting go. His thoughts weren’t in a very happy place on their way home, but it was selfish to wish she wouldn’t go.</p>
<p>On their way through the dark streets of Detroit Frank was so lost in thought that he almost lost his balance when Adam suddenly nudged him with his elbow.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Do you hear that?” Adam asked him.</p>
<p>“Hear what?”</p>
<p>“Church bells.” Adam took one of Frank’s hand. “It’s midnight.”</p>
<p>“So?” Frank tilted his head, and knew full well that something was about to go down, because that was the shit-eating grin Adam only used when he was about to razz him.</p>
<p>“Happy Christmas, Frank!”</p>
<p>And then Adam, that godforsaken asshole, slung his arms around Frank’s hips and lifted him clean off the ground, to spin him around like the idiotic dumbass that he was, as if Frank was a little girl in spring.</p>
<p>“Jensen! Put me down, you moron!” Frank wriggled in his grip, to no avail.</p>
<p>“Only if you kiss me first.”</p>
<p>“I hate you,” Frank said, and rested his hands on Adam’s shoulder with a world-weary sigh.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t,” Adam muttered, looking irritatingly smug.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t,” Frank sighed and shook his head. “Though sometimes I wish you were still a broody asshole, because this is humiliating.”</p>
<p>“Not to me.”</p>
<p>“So you really won’t let me down until I kiss you.”</p>
<p>He looked at Adam’s face again. Adam was staring back with an unmoving face, and his shades were up.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Broody asshole,” Adam replied, with a flat, husky voice. “Like that better?”</p>
<p>“Jensen, I am going to make a coin purse out of your nutsack if you don’t cut this out!”</p>
<p>The shades slid back, and Adam lifted one eyebrow. The smirk gave him away, though.</p>
<p>“I guess I really have to kiss you before you let me down, huh?” Frank crossed his hands behind Adam’s neck.</p>
<p>“You know I never make empty threats, Pritchard.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Frank gave back with the most bitch-ass dramatic sigh he could muster.</p>
<p>It had started to snow a little again, and soft little specks of white were dancing around their faces as they kissed.</p>
<p>“This is sickeningly romantic,” Frank remarked as they parted.</p>
<p>“What is?”</p>
<p>“This.” Frank shrugged. “You. Me. Kissing. Christmas night at midnight, with church bells and snowflakes.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re right.” Adam pulled Frank a little closer. “Can’t possibly get any more romantic.”</p>
<p>Frank looked at Adam’s lips for a moment before he met his eyes. “Jensen, if you even think about proposing I am going to kick you.”</p>
<p>Adam snorted and dropped his forehead against Frank’s with a chuckle. “Oh Frank,” he muttered. “I love you.”</p>
<p>Frank’s whole body tingled and his heart was racing and his throat went dry and his breathing hitched, all within the same second.</p>
<p>Words were so difficult sometimes. And it amazed Frank again and again how Adam could listen to his cynicism and sarcasm and still hear the affection that Frank was rarely able to put into words.</p>
<p>It was ridiculously easy this time.</p>
<p>“I love you too, Adam Jensen.” His words a soft puff of cloudy white that mingled with Adam’s breath. “And I don’t know what you did to me, but… I don’t want you to stop doing it.”</p>
<p>Adam still hadn’t put him down, still unwavering, with the strength and stamina of his artificial limbs that only he possessed. Frank stopped caring about it as they kissed. No one was here to see it anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://twitter.com/zeluchan/status/1332541347064999938?s=20">Art again</a> the final time, and I'm both happy and a little sad...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank was in an exceptionally foul mood that first day of February, after he had closed and deleted Christina’s account and access protocols. He made no effort to be polite to anyone, and even Adam was the target of his lashing out a few times.</p><p>He took it with a lot more grace than Frank deserved.</p><p>And if that wasn’t enough, the very next day he was drowning in error messages and cry-for-help emails, and it turned out one of the cleaners had torn out the power cable of one of the server banks. The physical damage was negligible, but the amount of data recovery did cost Frank several nights of sleep. He dragged himself home on his last leg, and wished someone would put him out of his misery.</p><p>“Maybe we should pick up the idea again of leaving the corporate office jobs behind,” Adam said when Frank was finally able to fall into his own bed again, after crashing on his office couch for days now. He was giving Frank a back rub, and Frank was about to fall asleep so he just emitted an inquisitive hum into his pillow.</p><p>“The security company we talked about in San Francisco, remember?”</p><p>“Hm. I do remember,” Frank muttered without opening his eyes. “After the last week, that idea has more appeal than ever. But even as an external security provider, I’d still be dealing with viruses and village idiots.”</p><p>“Not really,” Adam gave back, and dug his thumbs into the small of Frank’s back which elicited an almost obscene moan from him. “You’d be training cybersecurity experts to work for you, and they do the data recovery and pull the all-nighters.”</p><p>“The idea got a lot more appealing just now.”</p><p>“I thought as much,” Adam replied with a chuckle.</p><p>“And where do we go?” Frank asked after a yawn. “San Francisco? New York? Washington?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Adam replied. “Maybe we should leave the States altogether. Making a new start, we might as well do it for real and start from scratch somewhere else.”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Not gonna happen anytime soon,” Adam replied then. “We have to give Sarif our notice, give him a chance to hire replacements, show them the ropes, and such. But maybe, we won’t have to spend another winter in Detroit.”</p><p>“And what were you thinking about?” Frank asked and turned his head a little more to be able to look at him.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Adam replied, with a fake, thoughtful smile. “Europe is a long way from here, but Ireland for example is an English-speaking country, right?”</p><p>“Ireland?” Frank turned onto his back. “Why Ireland, of all places?”</p><p>“Well,” Adam leaned over him, his hands on either side of Frank’s face. “I heard you have a friend there.”</p><p>Frank felt the smile spreading on his face impossible to suppress, and he had no desire to even try.</p>
<hr/><p>Frank picked up his phone, and dialed the number with a slightly nervous flutter in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>“Christina Weber?”</em>
</p><p>“Hey, it’s Frank.”</p><p>
  <em>“Frank? How are you? It’s so good to hear from you!”</em>
</p><p>“I’m fine, thanks. But actually... I was wondering if you have space for two guys to crash for a week or two while they find their feet in a foreign country?”</p>
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